


Tundra Girl

by FiveFarthings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Copyright, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 21:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 120,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12944319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveFarthings/pseuds/FiveFarthings
Summary: List of Characters and Glossary in the Comments at the bottom





	1. The caribou calving grounds

**Author's Note:**

> List of Characters and Glossary in the Comments at the bottom

“Nini?”

“What?” Ninsha stopped cutting and glared at her sister, wiping her brow. Marsh reeds were tough: she was sweating as she pulled the cutting wire to and fro, in spite of the snow and the cold wind blowing off the Agammu.

“Don’t snap. Are you cross,” a pause, “again?”

“Of course I’m cross,” she mimicked Gazia’s pause, “again.”

“Because of what abba said in t’tent this morning, about waiting because t’black ‘bou herd is still too small?”

“Yes! And so should you be. It’s another year wasted here,” and she waved her hand around at the misty marshes and hummocky shorelands.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? T’herd increases by multiplication, your age only by addition.”

“Oh, what a clever bela you are, to repeat what abba said.”

“Isn’t it true, then?”

“Of course it’s true. But t’clock’s ticking, for you as well as me, though you don’t seem to know it. Adiri girls’ve been at school for five years, at my age.”

“Not all Adiri girls, you told me, only belas.”

“Go and dunk your head in t’marsh, Gazia. I said nothing of t’sort. Amata beltu’s school in Adir is open to all girls, whether their fathers are night soil collectors or t’head of a great Family. Even nomad girls like us. What I said was that t’priests hate girls learning, so they’ll pick on a commoner family that sends a daughter to t’beltu’s school. The family’ll be fined for …” she waved a hand, “anything, everything: not bowing to a temple idol two streets away or something. So for that reason it’s mostly young belas from t’great Families that go, ‘cause the priests daren’t touch them. And waste t’opportunity, I’m sure. But some commoner girls go. And t’point I’m making, clever bela, is that they’ve had five years and I’ve had none.”

“You can read and write. No one else can.”

She narrowed her eyes at Gazia. Yes, she could read and write and draw, which no other tundra girl could do. Or boy or man or woman, for that matter. Except one: Gazia, because Ninsha had taught her.

“What?” Gazia was all innocence.

“You’re fishing.”

 

It was Ninsha, not Gazia, who had fought to come by the learning. If ever they stopped in a town for abba to visit the caribou market, it was she who’d rushed off to find a scribe - the older the better - and traded with him for learning, for him to teach her what he could in the few days they were there. It was Ninsha who begged the ‘bou skin from abba to barter for the teaching, and then laboured, scraping it and curing it herself. It was Ninsha who did all the hard work, and Gazia benefitted. That, she didn’t mind. She was the elder, after all.

But, and this was what was really annoying, Gazia had the cheek to pick up the learning much more quickly and easily than Ninsha had done. She was clever and quick, making connections, understanding ideas, seeing implications like an Agammu fishhawk spying out the land from above, while Ninsha plodded through the mud below, struggling with everything. Time and again, when Ninsha was sitting with Gazia, teaching her and, at the same time, puzzling through what she had just learned herself, Gazia had said, “Nini, can’t you see that? But it’s so obvious!” It did not make her love her sister more.

 

“Don’t be like that, Nini. You’re much better at much more than I am.”

 

This was true. Ninsha’s nomad skills were better than Gazia’s, even allowing for the age difference. She could to weave the tough marsh reeds into anything: a basket, a shelter, a caribou pen. She could stitch, patch, and tailor a caribou hide. She could spin flax and wool, to weave the coarse cloth for their clothing and bedding. Those were the skills of the hearth, expected of a nomad girl, and she did them well. But Ninsha had boy skills too.

Firstborn, she had carried the weight of her parents’ disappointment that she was not a boy. The weight increased when, after Gazia, her mother had a boy, stillborn. So Ninsha set herself to learn the skills of the caribou and the open tundra as well.

Out with her abba, she learnt to drive, make, and mend a ’bou sled. She learnt to could read the clouds to judge the weather, to read snow and ice to judge whether it would bear the weight of a laden sled. She learnt caribou skills: herding, roping, branding, healing, delivering a ‘bou calf, slaughtering and skinning, curing the hides. Especially healing, for that was a female skill, and the women in her father’s family were renowned as healers. Nomad families within three days travel around would seek out their camp to bring their sick and wounded, people and caribou, to her grandmother. And, for a while, it seemed that it was she, Ninsha, would follow amamah as healer.

Then Gazia had come, just a cute little toddler at first, following her amamah around, but watching and listening, then helping. Then, as she grew older, sometimes telling amamah she was wrong about an illness, about what was wrong, or what was needed to help. And amamah had laughed, and asked her why. And often, annoyingly, she had been right. So she became amamah’s apprentice, and Ninsha was put aside. Gently and with love, but as amamah said, nature decides, not us, and Gazia has the gift. And she was right, Ninsha had to admit. Even when amamah had gone, the tundra people still came, came to a ten-year-old healer. When others questioned this, they just said, “She is of Ningal’s line, and the chosen of Eula, goddess of healing. She has healing hands, anyone can see.”

So, yes, Ninsha did do many things better than Gazia, but when Gazia did something better, she did it much, much, much better, and that didn’t make Ninsha love her little sister more.

But … when, last year, abba had said Tsu-tsu’s swollen belly was from the blowfly disease, and Ninsha’s ‘bou would have to be put down, Gazia had prodded and poked, and said, No, it was from eating moss weed at sporing time. Then she’d used a hollowed thigh bone to release the gas. Tsu-tsu went from bellowing in pain to contentedly grazing, in less than a half hour. Ninsha would have forgiven her anything after that: she loved her little calf more than anyone and anything. Except her amamah. And, she supposed, ama, abba and, deep down and putting all her annoyingness to one side, her sister.

 

“Anyway, you talk like you’re sixteen or something. You’re only thirteen, Ninsha.”

Ninsha glared at her again. “Let me tell you something, head-buried-in-t’sand bela. If abba delays next year that he did this year, I’ll be fifteen. And you know what ama’ll say? ‘It’s such a waste to spend this money on schooling for a girl. It’d be much better to use it for a dowry, to get her a good marriage, don’t you think?’ Already she’s thinking that. And if I’m married, Gazia bela, and not there to fight for our schooling, you can say goodbye to ever being a healer. T’only healing you’ll ever do will be for nomads and their ‘bou.” That was a bit cruel, for it was Gazia’s dream to become a proper, trained healer. Cruel but true.

But it was irritating the way she took everything for granted: Ninsha fighting for their schooling, Ninsha teaching her, Ninsha looking out for her.

For a few moments Gazia said nothing. Then, “Sorry, Nini, I hadn’t thought.”

“Well, start, clever bela. Work on abba, you’re his favourite, after all.” That was also a bit spiteful. Spiteful but true. “Anyway, instead of worrying about me, not that you ever do, you’re supposed to be tying reeds and not distracting me cutting.” Besides being tough, marsh reeds were raspy: one slip and you had a skinned hand.

“What I wanted to say, Nini, is that Tsu-tsu’s acting skittish.”

Now what? “So?” Caribou often acted skittish, and Tsu-tsu was a three-year-old, big, strong, and frisky. They’d probably mate him this year. So naturally he would be acting skittish in late winter.

“He’s looking up t’hill.”

“Why didn’t you say so!” That could mean something. Wolves? They were only a half day from Umar, but on the other hand, these were the spring calving grounds.

She ignored Gazia’s muttered, “I just did,” and turned to look. Yes, the ’bou was shifting from foot to foot and looking toward the ridge. She’d better go and check.

She gave the wire a jerk to free it, it slipped as it loosened, and - hai, that was painful. She lifted the skinned finger to her mouth.

“Sorry,” said Gazia.

Ninsha scowled at her. “I’ll look. Stay here, with Tsu-tsu.” It was probably nothing, but she was supposed to keep her little sister safe. Not that Gazia ever listened to her these days.

She climbed to the ridge, going on hands and knees as she approached it, and peered over.

Hai - all thoughts of her plight as well as of her skinned finger vanished. Men. Men and sleds and ’bou. Ten men. What did they want? Why so many? Who were they? Half of them wore the ’bouskin trousers and jerkins of ’bou herders, the others - was that the glint of a sword? Were those the black robes of a priest, there in the second sled? And, hai, her blood ran cold: the last man, driving a dogsled, was tall and broad, his hood back to reveal pale skin and flame red hair.

“What is it?” Gazia’s head rose next to hers.

“Get down!” Wilful as ever. She slid back, pulling Gazia with her.

“Quick, back to t’sled. We must warn them.”

“Who? Why? Who’re those men?”

“Ama and abba, of course. About t’men coming.” She turned and ran down the hill.

She needed a flat spot, and bare ground under the fire. “Tsu-tsu,” she called softly as she ran.

The ’bou looked up.

“Hai, hai.”

The ’bou walked slowly forward, pulling the sled with him.

“Sva, sva.”

He wheeled to the left, walking onto flat, sandy ground.

“Wooah, wooah.”

He stopped and stood waiting.

“Hai,” said Gazia as they reached him. “He always listens to you, and never to me.”

Sibling jealousy she did not need right now. “He’s my ’bou. Tsam-tsam’s your ’bou. Come summer, abba will help you train him to your sled.” If they still had Tsam-tsam. Or a sled.

She began throwing bundles of reeds off the sled.

“What’re you doing!” said Gazia, “That’s our morning’s work. What about t’bou pens?”

If you no longer have ’bou, you need no pens. But she didn’t want to terrify Gazia. “I need t’firekit and kindling. They’re under this, at t’back of t’basket.”

She threw off the last bundle, grabbed the firekit and laid the tinderboard out, then piled tinder around the drillhole. Then, hands trembling, she spun the drill with the firebow until smoke began drifting upwards. Gazia, kneeling next to her, gently blew, but the tinder just smoked. Damp. She should have checked it that morning, but instead had been chivvying Gazia. Now her family would pay for her neglect. She bent and alternated with Gazia in blowing. A few moments later a tiny flame struggled upward.

Quickly she arranged the kindling in a cone around it, then said, “Keep blowing while I get t’black.”

But Gazia sat back and stared at her. “Hai, t’black? But that’s for brigands and bandits.”

“Blow, blow!”

Gazia bent and blew, looking sidelong at Ninsha with wide eyes.

Ninsha reached into the side of the basket, found the small leather pouch, untied the thong closing it and poured some grey resin granules into her hand.

“That’s enough.” The kindling was well alight now. Ninsha dashed her hand into the cone and jerked out the tinderboard, then stood back and watched the fire growing.

“Abba’ll be furious if you send t’black and it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” But … she hoped it was, how she hoped she was wrong.

Gazia looked at the fire, then at Ninsha. “What’re you waiting for? If we need t’black, why don’t you put it on?”

“Fire’s not strong enough. Smoke’ll just drift and spread. Our camp’s five miles away. We need enough heat to take it high into t’air.”

“How can those men be bandits? They were not in rags and tatters.”

“They’re from t’atu of Qui. They’re worse than bandits.”

“Are we near Qui? And how’d you know? They could be anyone. And how’d you know they’re going to our camp? They could be going on.”

The flames were now higher than Ninsha was tall. Shielding her eyes, she stood closer and tossed a cluster of the resin granules onto the fire.

Immediately a dense black cloud rose into the air, higher and higher. Hai, ama and abba, be watching and take heed. Please, please!

“Into t’basket, Gazi. I’ll tell you as we go. Tsu-tsu: hai, hai.”

The bou began walking forward, the rigging tightened, and the sled jerked into motion. As it moved past her, Ninsha grabbed the ’bou antler handle, swung round to step onto the runners and lifted the reins.

"What about t'reeds?" said Gazia.

“We'll come back for them." If they still needed reeds after the Qui men's visit. "Geeah, geeah.” The ’bou started angling up the hill and Ninsha leant into the slope to keep the sled stable.

They paused at the ridge and Ninsha scanned up and down the trail. Nothing, but she dare not use it if the Qui men were on it somewhere.

“Hai, hai. Hai, hai.”

Tsu-tsu broke into a trot, taking them down the hill, across the trail and up the slope on the far side. They were lucky the ground was still frozen: the land between here and the camp was so broken with hummocks, ditches and fallen rocks from the cliffs that otherwise the journey would take twice as long.

“Nini, you said you’d tell me.”

“Sva, sva,” she called, and they swerved around a boulder. “You remember four years ago-”

“’Course I remember. T’bad winter. Just because I was only seven-”

“Not t’first bad winter, t’summer before that.”

“We had a long journey, to get t’black ‘bou. Because I read to abba.”

“Yes, clever bela, because you read to abba.”

This was one thing, the big thing, which Gazia had done for their schooling.

Abba had always grumbled about Ninsha wasting good ‘bou hides on learning to read and write, foolish things which she would never use. Until one day they had visited Umar, and he had been puzzling out a notice fixed to the town gates. Gazia, aged five, had demanded to be picked up, and abba, of course, had obliged her. And Gazia, to Ninsha’s great and not-very-secret satisfaction, had read the notice out to him.

Hai, abba had been astonished. He had told Gazia how clever _she_ was, of course, and then had demanded that Ninsha teach him as well. But whereas Gazia had learned easily, their abba just couldn’t take it in. He would recognise a word one day, but have forgotten it the next. It was as if Gazia’s brain was like a sponge, absorbing knowledge like water, while abba’s was like a stone. It would take in just a little, on the surface, then dry out so that even that little was gone. It must be to do with his age, for abba was quick and clever about other things, tundra things. But still, he had been proud of them, both of them, Ninsha as well, and began to encourage them. He said that he would send them to Adir, to Amata beltu’s school for girls. To pay for it, he said, he would breed a herd of black caribou and sell them to the great Families, for they liked matched pairs of ‘bou to pull their sleds.

Ninsha swung her weight to one side, to steer the sled around a hummock, and went on. “We went to Hakkan, right across Hakkan, deep into t’mountains on t’other side to t’land of Agar, where men’ll cut your throat as soon as look at you.”

“Everyone dressed in rags and tatters. And I played with t’children, and learned to speak Hakkan and Agarin.”

“Do you want to show off or do you want t’story?”

“Sorry, Nini.”

“Abba bought a small herd of t’black ‘bou and we came home again back over t’mountains.”

“I remember. The gorge with t’high cliffs, and t’rushing river, water crashing over boulders. Ama was afraid I’d fall in. And that place near t’top, that castle on t’rock next to t’lake, Ama said it was so beautiful.”

“T’Citadel of Qui. Beautiful, yes, until we got close and saw t’bodies hanging from gibbets and heads on spikes lining t’bridge. As beautiful as a corpse flower, with a heart as rotten as a ’bou five days dead, abba said. We, and all t’people of t’bou, never take t’Pass of Qui if we can avoid it. But it’s t’shortest way between Hakkan and Aria, and that year it was too late to go back t’way we’d come. Hai, we should have stayed in Hakkan until t’spring, but we didn’t. Ama wanted to get home, so abba decided to be use t’pass and pay t’toll.”

“What’s t’toll?”

“A payment for using t’pass. One tenth of your goods or livestock. And abba had expected that, and had brought money, and paid, but then a man came out just as we were leaving, and he said we’d travelled from Aria to Hakkan that way and so must pay that toll and a fine.”

“But we didn’t! We’d gone around t’mountains, it took forever, weeks and weeks.”

“We told him that but he didn’t believe us, or so he said. But it’d have made no difference, somehow or other he’d have cheated us, because we’re just nomads and he was a brute with soldiers behind him, and t’hanging dead. So we had to pay t’fine, and that was a half, a half more than we’d already paid. What’s more, this devil sent in herders to choose t’best of t’black ‘bou. So we ended up with only half t’herd we’d bought.”

“Hai, and Utu did not smite him for violation of The Me?”

Ninsha glared at her sister. “Hush, Gazi, do not invoke t’gods. Or The Me. No, Utu did not.” The gods never smote anyone for the poor and weak, only for the rich and powerful. And even if the gods had not been all-knowing, they would have known this time, for a priest of the temple of Enlil had been there, silently taking his tithe of the transaction.

“Then may t’Croucher haunt him all his days.”

Even there, riding across the hills far from anywhere, Ninsha turned to look over her shoulder. “If a priest hears you say that, Gazia, you’ll be on t’stake and burning before t’day’s out. Don’t even think it.”

“Why should such men have such power? It’s evil.”

“It’s life. It has always and will always be so, between t’strong and t’weak.”

“Abba brought us back down along that narrow path through the high cliffs, only one ‘bou at a time. I nearly fell, and ama was furious with abba.”

“It was dangerous, yes, but abba said he had been robbed at Qui and did not want to be robbed again at Umar.”

“He always seemed angry, that year. He hardly spoke for weeks on end.”

“He felt shamed as well as cheated, for he did not, could not resist. And then we had two bad winters, and because abba’d sold t’best ‘bou to pay for t’black herd, we’d too few strong ‘bou to clear t’snow for foraging. So t’weaker ones died, and we were worse off than if we had never gone to Hakkan at all.”

“And amamah went out into t’snow.”

Hai, that was an ache like no other. Amamah, her wise, loving grandmother, who had comforted her as a little child, who had taught her, oh so much. She’d trained up Gazia as healer because the gods had chosen her, but she’d made it up to Ninsha in love and attention. As they’d sat and wove or cooked or scraped hides together, amamah had spoken to her of the world beyond the tundra, of the mysterious Agammu with its shroud of perpetual mist, of the garden of Umar with its fruitful orchards, of Adir with its trading ships sailing to exotic places. Places like fabled Findias where girls, even girls, could enter schools and learn about things like healing, the natural world, languages, music, philosophy, oh, so many different subjects. Amamah, who had inspired her and encouraged her in her learning, defending her against abba and ama who thought that a girl educating herself was a waste of time and money. Amamah, who had told her, fiercely, to never give up her dream.

“Don’t.”

“I miss her too, Nini. Every day.”

“You should. She loved you.”

“Yes, she did. But she loved you more, Nini.”

“How can you say that! It was you she trained up, to stand in her shoes as healer.”

“Because I was the chosen of Eula. But it was you she loved, for your hunger for knowledge, for learning, but most of all because you are her heir.”

“What do you mean? She left all her healing tools to you.”

“Her heir in spirit, Nini. Amamah guided us, the family, told us what to do. You are the same. Even here, today, you saw the men, decided what to do, and did it. And if abba saw the smoke, he would have taken heed, for he knows you, like amamah, always judge right.”

This was what her little sister thought of her? Hai, she would never have guessed.

“But still you haven’t told me, Nini, why you did it, why those men should be here. We’re not in debt now, and we have a big, strong herd, don’t we?”

“We are in debt. To save the herd, abba had to take a loan. It was either that, or sell t’black herd and start again. But moneylenders don’t like us, don’t like t’people of t‘bou or any nomads, because we’re here today and gone tomorrow, or because we’re poor, or for any reason you like. So abba could only find one in Umar who’d lend. And he had to make his mark on paper to say, to agree to, hai, I don’t know what, but all sorts of things, and none of them good. ‘Punitive clauses,’ abba called it.”

“But abba would not have agreed to anything he couldn’t do, would he?”

“No. What he agreed to, we could do, given a chance. But did t’paper say in writing what he agreed to in words? On t’tundra, we agree by trust and hand. In t’cities there’s no honour, and it’s all written on paper. Who can say what’s written down? Abba wanted to bring it home so I could read it out to him, but they wouldn’t let him, saying he must agree, there and then, and make his mark. From t’city comes abominations, lies and sorrow, the poet says.

“So, abba agreed to make payment of one in four of t’newborn calves every spring until t’debt’s repaid, with another one in ten going to t’temple. A high cost, but one we can meet. That’s why we’re here, on t’birthing grounds near Umar. And he spoke to t’moneylender when we came through Umar last week, to tell him t’payment would be ready. I know for I went with him. But as we left I saw t’man from Qui, t’man who’d cheated us. He’s a faranji, an outlander, a big, tall man with a pale face and red hair.”

“Hai, that man today, with t’dogs!”

“Yes. A Findian devil. They even call him t’gallu, someone told us at Qui, because he’s as pitiless and cruel as t’Assaku when they drag mortal souls down to Hubur.”

“But perhaps he’s not going to us. Perhaps he’s going somewhere else.”

“There’s nowhere else. The trail goes to t’calving grounds, no further. Further’s blocked by t’Agammu, t’Wall of Iribal and t’Finger of Iribal. And didn’t you see t’priest? Bad, bad, bad. So that is why I sent t’black, and let us hope, oh, let us hope that I am wrong.”

 

Slowly Ninsha raised her head between the tussocks and peered down into the calving grounds. Four tents had sprung up, two on each side of the family tent, like soldiers guarding a captive. In the front of the family tent stood abba, a soldier on one side, ama on the other. In front of abba stood the gallu. To one side stood the priest, his cowl over his head, his hands in the sleeves of his robe, silent and watching. She felt Gazia’s hands clutch her arm.

Her father was angry. She could not hear his words, but his loud voice and waving arms told her that. Her mother stood silent, her eyes downcast. The redhead man stood facing abba, legs apart, arms folded, head up, staring down at him.

She looked across at the ‘bou pens. She could see men moving around among the bou, checking the pens were secure. The ‘bou were nervous, sidling away when the men came close. Were they all there? She scanned back and forth.

Some of the yearlings, Li-li, Chai-chai, Gazia’s Tsam-tsam, the one with the twisted antler, and the other one Gazia had healed, the one who had the bad ticks last year, they were missing. Had abba seen her smoke and been able to hide them?

Hai, she hoped so. The way things looked, debt slavery beckoned otherwise.

The sound of her father’s voice stopped, and she looked back at the group in front of the tents. Abba’s face was looking down, but his hands were clenched by his sides. The gallu threw back his head and laughed, then put his hand on abba’s chest and pushed him so hard that he fell backwards.

“Hai,” said Gazia, and her grip tightened on Ninsha’s arm. “Why’d he do that?”

“Shh.” The men wouldn’t hear them, but the ’bou might, and give them away by looking towards them.

Abba sprang to his feet, but before he could throw himself at the gallu, the soldier next to him had grabbed one arm, and ama had grabbed the other, pulling him back, away from the gallu. The soldier turned to the gallu, speaking with angry movements of his hands. The big man just shook his head and made a throwaway wave with his arm. Then he turned and strode to one of the tents, went in and closed the flap behind him.

The soldier, his head bent towards abba, and speaking to him earnestly, led him to the family tent. At the entrance abba fell to his knees, raised his arms to the sky and howled like a maimed wolf.

Beside Ninsha, Gazia began to cry.


	2. Two and a half years later, in the City of Adir

A gust of sea wind rattled the shutter, and Ninsha woke.

Dawn, from the glimmer of light. She jabbed her elbow into Gazia’s ribs. “Wake up.”

“Hai.” A muffled voice from under the blanket. “A few moments more?”

“No. Not unless you want to meet _him_ on the stairs.”

That never failed. Gazia would do anything to avoid their stepfather. Especially after last night, when he had ranted at them about the barley flatbread Ninsha had cooked for him. She knew, and he knew, that the flatbread tasted sour because he was too cheap to buy good barley - bought with the money that she and Gazia had earned - but that did not stop him threatening to throw them out onto the street or even to sell them.

“Hai. Move over, then. Get off t’bed.”

“Don’t talk tundra.”

“Hai, hai, hai. T’bed, t’weaving shop, t’city, t’bridge.”

“Gazia.”

“All right. The, the, the, the, the. The dogpit of Adir, the cesspit where we live, the slave driver where we work.” She sat up, gave a mock bow, and said in the haughty accent of a young Adiri bela, “This little tundra girl thanks you, madam, for your kind words on the quality of her weaving, but still thinks you are a miserable, bigoted, dried up old witch who surely makes her money by running a cathouse in Ishtar on the side.”

Ninsha sighed, closed her eyes and let her shoulders sag.

Instantly Gazia turned to her and put her arms around her. “Sorry, Nini, sorry. I know you carry us both. It’s just that I hate this, having to do what they want, to pretend we’re something we are not, when all the time we are better than they.”

“We have to play their game, otherwise we suffer.” How many times had they had this conversation? But the anger meant Gazia was fighting. If ever she gave up, it would be the end, for both of them. And only here could she vent that anger safely.

“I hate them.”

Ninsha needed no reminding.

 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Dressing never took long, not with the cold draft coming through the broken shutters. Sometimes Ninsha felt it was warmer in the street than in their little attic room.

“Ready?” she said, tying on her headscarf.

“Almost.” Gazia crossed to the window to peer through the hole in the slats. “It’s still there.”

“The _Wind of the Telemon_?” She need not ask. Gazia had gazed at the trading ship morning and evening, ever since it had come in from Findias two weeks earlier.

“Can we go that way again today?”

“It’s not from the Isles of the Blessed, you know. Findias is probably just as much of a -” Her voice died as Gazia turned a stricken face to her.

“It’s not, it’s not! It’s a place of light, where we would have something to live for, where we would be treated like people, not scavenger curs, where we wouldn’t have to scurry like mice, always frightened, always watching, watching, just one step ahead of the slavers and the priests of Ishtar. Adir is a dogpit, brutal and merciless. Who cares what happens to us here? No one, not one living soul. Findias is different, it is, it is!”

“Come, Gazi, we must go now.” Ninsha felt ashamed. Just because the hammerman beat her, must she beat her sister? Was that any reason to puff at her sister’s candle of hope? The Dingir knew there was precious little else than the dream of the healer school in fabled Findias to keep the flame of Gazia’s spirit burning. And dreams were all they had now. Only Utu knew what the future held for them here in Adir, but it looked bleak.

Down the stairs they went, Gazia as close as a shadow behind her. They knew every loose floorboard, every creaking joint in the three flights, and could pass as silently as owls. Only the click of the latch falling to as they closed the front door betrayed their passing, and by that time they were safe out of the tenement.

Safe from the hammerman, but not safe. In Adir was no safety. Danger lay in wait everywhere, every day, hour, minute. A quick glance up and down the alley. Was that a man, there, waiting in the shadows? But it moved, took form and substance, became small, and waved. The baker’s girl. Ninsha waved back. Two girls alone in Adir had to nurture every possible friendship, weak and powerless though the friend might be.

Few were astir at this time of the morning. The sisters pulled hoods up over headscarves to keep off the sea mist, Gazia linked her arm through Ninsha’s, and they hurried off. They walked heads down, picking their way through heaps of rubble and things hidden under rags that Ninsha did not want to know about, trying not to breathe in too deeply because of the stench of sewage and rotting offal that even the dwellers in Hangman’s Lane would not eat. Yes, as Gazia had said, like frightened mice, except that, unlike mice who scurried along next to walls, they stayed in the middle. Walls had doorways, doorways could have grasping hands to pull a careless child in, never to be seen again until her body washed up on the shore a month later.

At the end of the alley they paused and Ninsha looked out, up and down the quay road. A few people were about here, but huddled in their clothing, hurrying about their business. This street was usually safe, at least in daylight hours, for the merchants would not tolerate lawlessness near their warehouses.

They turned towards where the tall ships lay against the jetties opposite a temple of Tiamat. Automatically, they turned and genuflected as they passed the temple entrance. The sea goddess was the patron of Adir and no one wished to offend her, not with her watery domain just twenty paces away.

“Hai, she is so beautiful. Look at the ropes, laced like a spider’s web, Nini, drooping down from the sail beams. And the sails, like white folded wings, on a great swan, getting ready to fly. Hai, wonderful bird, can we go with you when you take off for Findias?”

A swan? The _Wind of the Telemon_ was a huge wooden ship with tall masts and furled white sails. Beautiful, yes, as Ninsha’s sled had been beautiful, as a well-made tool. But a swan? Hai, it hurt to think about her sled. It was gone, like all their life on the tundra. Gone, dead and buried, and mourning it would do no good. Like amamah, ama and abba. Sometimes, huddled in their bed in the small hours, she would feel Gazia’s body shuddering in grief, and hold her tight. Grief and fear for the future.

A sailor came to the rail and stared down at them. Time to move on. “Come, my sister the poet, we cannot tarry looking at swans or ships.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Nini, can we go and see if Aleisha is all right?”

“No, it is too late for that. It is too far out of our way.”

“We haven’t seen her for ten days, Nini. It’s not too far if we cut through Ishtar.”

Hai, cut through the pleasure quarter, the warren of alleys of the Ishtar cathouses? She’d never taken Gazia through there, and had only crossed herself on winged feet, and her heart in her mouth.

“She’s our friend, our only friend. You said last night you were worried about her. She might need us.”

Gazia knew how to pluck at her guilt strings. Aleisha had been a weavergirl at Saloman’s weaving rooms and had helped them adapt their wool weaving skills to silk when they had come to Adir. When ama had died in childbirth, Aleisha had comforted them in their desperate grief and hopeless plight. She felt both, for she too was an orphan. But she was alone. At least Ninsha and Gazia had each other.

Then, six months ago their ways had parted. Aleisha’s fingers had become too big for making knots in silk rugs, and Saloman had ‘let her go.’ Greatly daring, Ninsha had asked Salomon why he could not employ her weaving wool rugs. Scowling at her, he said he had too many wool weavers already, and that Adir was full of them.

“But what will she do?” said Ninsha.

Saloman had shrugged and turned away. He did not know, he did not care. Or maybe he did know. An orphan girl of sixteen, no work, no dowry, no family to care about her: where could she go, what could she do, how could she eat? She must take the star, give herself into the hands of the black robed wolves of the temple of Ishtar. It was either that, or sell herself into slavery. Hai, was there much difference?

Ninsha had missed Aleisha with an ache second only to the ache with which she missed amamah, ama and abba.

Then, two months ago, Aleisha had been waiting at the western end of the Lakin bridge as they crossed one evening. They had hugged with joyful tears, and she had taken them to a house nearby on the river, not far from a temple of Ishtar. She lodged there with an old woman, one of the voiceless, her tongue taken by the temple, one or other of the dozens in Adir, for some blasphemy, real or imagined. The woman had given them a meal in an upstairs room. They had laughed and talked together until Ninsha had suddenly remembered the hammerman’s meal, which she was supposed to prepare. But the old woman had given her a spicy covered dish of fish and barley for him, and though he had shouted, he had not been violent.

After that, Aleisha had met them at the bridge every few days. She never spoke of how she lived now, and turned the conversation if Ninsha asked her. But the star, tattooed blue and crude, on the back of her left wrist told of her life, and even more, the bruises on her face from time to time. Likewise, Ninsha never spoke of the hammerman, but when her face showed a bruise, Aleisha hugged her long and hard.

The last time they had met, Aleisha’s face was scratched as well as bruised, and one eye was black. But more than that, her mood worried Ninsha. It swung between despondency and almost manic cheerfulness, so much so that Ninsha wondered if Aleisha had been taking sak or an even worse drug.

And since then, nothing.

Could they risk it? It was early morning. Few of the wolves would be astir, surely. She paused at the entrance to an alley, and looked in. Dark: as shadowed as Hangman’s Alley, but cleaner. “All right. Quick and quiet.”

 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Only on the third knock did the door open, just a crack, and then wider, and the old woman drew them into the dark passage.

“Aleisha? Is Aleisha here?”

The old woman led them upstairs, into the room overlooking the river, and pointed to the chairs.

“I’m really sorry,” said Ninsha, “but we have to get to work. We just came because we haven’t seen Aleisha these last few days. Is she here? Is she all right?”

The woman stared at her then gestured to them to wait. She left the room, returning a few moments later carrying a small wooden box. Putting it in front of Ninsha, she gestured to her to open it.

Inside were bracelets, necklaces and bright patterned woven belts. What? Who? Why?

Ninsha raised her eyes to the old woman. “Aleisha’s?” But she knew, already.

The old woman nodded.

“She’s… not here?” Ninsha could not bring herself to say the dreaded words.

The old woman shook her head slowly, again and again.

Gazia was staring at her, eyes wide. “She’s… She dead?”

The woman gave a small nod and pushed the box towards Ninsha.

“But… But how? Why?”

The woman walked to the window and pointed to the bridge. The slime on the cobbles glistened in the morning light.

“She … jumped?” said Gazia.

The woman spun around, and eyes glaring, shook her head again and again.

“What happened?” said Ninsha.

The old woman took Gazia’s shoulders and pushed her out of the room, closing the door behind her. She turned, and, looking at Ninsha, clasped her hands around her own throat. Then she picked up the box, put it in Ninsha’s hands and led her to the door.


	3. The weaver workshop

“She’s been gone for an hour,” said Anba, “and her loom blocks the warmth for all of us. Why can’t I move it?”

Ninsha shut her eyes. All she wanted to do was go into a dark corner and, her arms around her sister, weep for her friend.

“Just leave it, Anba,” said Gazia. “Jawa will be back soon and will make a fuss. And Saloman-gar will make an even bigger fuss.”

“Nobody asked you, Gazia. Just because you are quickest with the knots doesn’t make you the cleverest, you know. Of course she will make a fuss, she makes a fuss about everything. And if my uncle makes a fuss, so much the better. She shouldn’t be skiving off all the time. So I’m going to move her loom.” Anba looked at Ninsha defiantly, and began walking across the room.

Ninsha took a deep breath. Everyone always looked to her for decisions. Jawa was supposed to be head weavergirl, both because she was Saloman’s daughter and because she was eldest. But even when she was here, she would check everything with Ninsha, in a roundabout way so as not to lose face.

“No, Anba, leave -”

“Tsst!” Gazia cupped a hand behind her ear.

Intermingled with the curses of a carter driving his mule along the street and the clatter of iron tyres on cobbles came the sounds of the shop door closing, and voices.

“To work!” said Ninsha, and a second later the room was filled with the clacking of shuttles shooting back and forth.

“Who is it?” whispered Anba, gesturing to the spy-eye in the fanlight top corner. Ninsha glanced up at the little curved mirror that Jawa had placed to see if her father was coming up the stairs.

A bela was there, but she had no need to tell the others. The haughty accents were loud and clear. The door opened and Saloman entered, bowing her in.

She had ‘bela’ stamped all over her. Hair coiled in rings, a thin, gauzy veil that did nothing to hide her lapis lazuli earrings and necklace, pale blue ankle length robes, silk of course, and while kidleather ankle boots studded with lapis lazuli. A daughter of a Family, surely.

“This is our humble workshop, bela-mah, and as you can see, your silk rug is all but finished.” He led her to Ninsha’s loom.

The bela bent close to inspect the rug. She was not more than sixteen, but her bared left arm was podgy from too many sweetmeats. She turned abruptly to Ninsha. “You, girl, this is your work? You look too big. Hold out your hands.”

Ninsha did so, silently.

“How can this be her work, master weaver? Her fingers are too big for the knots. I do not want coarse knots in my rug.”

“She is our best weaver, bela-mah. You will find no coarse knots in one of her rugs. Her sister helps her with the knots.” Oh! Saloman knew? He gestured towards Gazia, and the bela’s eyes followed his motion. Gazia, never one to kow-tow, met her eyes before lowering her own. The bela’s eyes narrowed.

“But yes,” Saloman said, “you are right, bela-mah, her hands grow too big and this is her last rug.”

Ninsha heard Gazia’s indrawn breath. Her last rug? Did that mean she would be out on the street?

“And the other? The wool rug?” The girl gestured towards Jawa’s loom. “Why is that not finished? That girl started before this one, did she not? And she is not even here. I wait, and my great-aunt waits, and this girl is not at her loom? The beltu of Adir waits while a weavergirl goes gadding about? A girl, who knows, from the tundra?”

Ninsha’s disdain hardened to dislike.

“She is my own daughter, bela-mah,” said Saloman, “and no tundra girl. If she is away without pressing cause, bela-mah, she will be whipped. You may be sure of that.”

The bela sniffed. “I think perhaps we should take our custom to another weaver.”

“If you please, bela-mah,” said Ninsha, her gaze on the floor, “she has gone out to buy a skein of red for the beltu-mah’s rug.”

“And why could she not just send a boy to pick it up?”

“If you please, bela-mah, it is such a delicate rose shade that she trusted no one to choose it but herself.”

The girl curled her lip and said, “So you say, tundra girl. Masterweaver, did not let this happen again if you wish to keep the custom of House Taskarin.”

She turned and walked out, and they could hear Saloman’s appeasing tones on the stairs.

“Bitch,” said Gazia, in a low voice. “ _Tundra girl._ ”

Ninsha glanced at the spy-eye. The bela was still on the stairs. Ninsha shook her head and raised her hand for silence.

They heard the sharp voice outside, then the word, ‘Go,’ then the ‘Hai, hai, hai,’ of bearers clearing a path for their mistress’s litter.

An inner door opened and Jawa, a finger to her lips, ran across to her loom, sat down and started working.

Footsteps on the stairs again, heavy and clumping, the door opened and Saloman came in. Storming up to Ninsha, he shouted into her face. “How dare you speak! The beltu’s great-niece, my most important client and you take it on yourself to address her? You think you are the only silk weavers in Adir, you and your sister? Do that again, and you’ll find yourselves on the street.”

He turned to Jawa. “And you! Not at work when customers call. Out doing what? Gossiping around the well, I’ll be bound. I told the bela I would beat you if you were absent without good reason, and I will if it happens again. Your place is here, at your loom, not gossiping. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, abba, I hear you. I will stay here and work.”

He glared at her, then at Ninsha again, turned and walked out, slamming the door.

Jawa turned on Ninsha. “Talking to the bela? What were you telling her? What a wonderful weaver you are? How people demand your work because it is so neat and even? Let me tell you, Ninsha bela, that it is not for much longer. Abba knows, yes, he knows, that your sister ties your knots now. He knows your fingers are too big for silk. So soon, Ninsha bela, soon you will tell no more lies to buyers.”

Anba grinned and nodded, but Gazia dropped her shuttle and stared at Jawa.

“You told him?” she said. “You told him that I do Nini’s knots?”

“Why should I not? One girl cannot do two girls’ work. Just like when Ninsha was doing Aleisha’s knots.”

“Hai, you told him that? You put Aleisha on the street? You?” Gazia left her stool and walked to Jawa. Jawa stopped work, looking at her.

“Gazia,” said Ninsha, “go back to your loom. Saloman-gar would have known anyway.” She kept working, hoping the noise of her shuttle would mask the rising voices.

Gazia ignored her, stopping in front of Jawa’s loom, her hands on her hips. Jawa backed away. She was both bigger and senior, but she knew and feared the lash of Gazia’s tongue.

“You know what happened to Aleisha, Jawa, after you betrayed her?”

“I did not betray her, I just-”

“She took the star, Jawa.” Gazia bared her left wrist, and Jawa flinched. “She went west of the river, to the temples of Ishtar, for she had nowhere else to go. With no job, Jawa, Aleisha had nowhere else to go. You know what happens there, at the temples, Jawa?”

“I didn’t know, I never meant -”

“You have never been there, Jawa? No, of course not, _nice_ girls, girls with families to care for them, they never go west of the river. So you have never seen the ragged women waiting outside the temples, Jawa. You have never seen a girl like Aleisha, who has never been with a man, sitting on the stones, her eyes downcast in shame, in shame and in fear, waiting for a man, any man, to throw a half shekel into her lap. You have never seen such a girl rise up, Jawa, her head bowed to hide her face, and, trembling, follow the man who chose her, who _bought_ her, Jawa, while the black robed priest watches and counts the money. Do you know what happened to Aleisha there, Jawa?”

“Gazia-” said Ninsha.

“No, Nini, she needs to know. She needs to know what happens to a girl who is cast off from the weaver shop, into the streets, with no money, with no dowry, with no family, with no one who cares about her. Her choices, Jawa, are to sell herself to Ishtar or into slavery, and slavery is for ever.” She turned, went to her loom, picked up Aleisha’s wooden box and returned to Jawa. She opened the box and took out a bangle. “You know this, Jawa?”

“Gazia,” said Ninsha, but Gazia ignored her.

“It is Aleisha’s.” Jawa’s voice was apprehensive.

“Yes, Aleisha’s. I remember you admired it when she bought it.” The room was silent except for the clack of Ninsha’s shuttle. The other girls had stopped work and were watching agog. Anba had a half smile twisting her face.

Gazia shook the box so that it rattled. “All these, Jawa, all are Aleisha’s. But she doesn’t need them any more. You don’t need bangles and necklaces when you lie in the mud and slime at the bottom of the Bay of Lakin.” She held the bangle up. “Would you like this one, Jawa?”

Jawa stepped back again, her hands raised, her face white. “No, no! Stand away!” She looked at Ninsha. “This is true? Aleisha is …”

“Hai, you don’t believe me?” said Gazia. “Come with me, Jawa, after work today, and I will take you. Yes, I will take you over the lower bridge to a small house, in amongst the cathouses of the Ishtar quarter, where an old woman lives. She is a voiceless one, but she can talk with her hands, and she will show you the spot on the bridge where Aleisha was throttled,” and Gazia grasped her own throat, “throttled by some man high on sak or worse, no doubt after doing unspeakable things to her. She will show you where Aleisha was thrown over the parapet into the water below, to drown if she was not already dead, to wash down into the bay, where she would sink-”

“Hai, hai, no more, no more!” said Jawa, pushing the words away with her hands. She was crying now. “Ninsha, this is true? What Gazia says about Aleisha?”

“Yes, it is true. But it is not your fault, Jawa. Yes, you spoke, but your father would have known anyway. You are not to blame for what happened to Aleisha, Jawa.” That was too great a burden for anyone, let alone a simple girl like Jawa.

Jawa looked at her, biting her lip.

“It is not your fault, Jawa,” she said again, and Jawa nodded, slowly, gratefully, wiping away the tears.

“Why do you believe my sister?” said Gazia. “Didn’t you just tell us that she tells lies? You are right: she was telling lies today. And to the bela, yes, lies. Not about her weaving, no, but about another girl, one who was not at her loom. The bela was angry, yes, saying this girl was gadding about while the beltu waited for her rug, and maybe House Taskarin would send their work to another weaver in future. My sister lied about this girl, saying she was not at her loom working because she had gone to the dyers to get a skein of red, a shade of rose so delicate that only she could pick out. It had to be just right for the beltu, Nini said, and the words turned the wrath of the bela. She did not tell the truth, no, the truth that that girl had been gone for more than an hour, and was seeing Surinam, the dyer’s son.”

“Hai, you know? You know about Surinam? You have seen us?”

“Of course I have not seen, no, not in any of the four times before today you have done this, for I have been here, at my work. But you think only the cats that watch from the shadows know? You think there is no girl in the marketplace with eyes? How many times have you told us you saw this girl eyeing that boy or this boy carrying that girl’s water jar from the well? Do you think that other girls’ eyes are less quick than yours? Do you think that their tongues are stiller than yours? Every girl in the marketplace knew by the third time, and by now every girl’s mother knows. Yes, that you have met Surinam, once at the well, once at the tannery, twice in the marketplace, behind the stall of Occasai the Hakkanite fruit seller. All know this, but none know that Nini covered for you each time, saying you were out getting yarn, or thread, or checking samples, but never saying the truth.”

Jawa looked at Ninsha. “Why? Your heart has no love for me. Why should you lie for me?”

“Trouble for one is trouble for all,” said Ninsha. “If your father gets angry, we all suffer.”

“Hai! But if everyone knows, how soon will he know?”

“Tomorrow? The next day?” said Gazia. “Soon, Jawa, soon.”

“But what should I do?” Her eyes wide, she fixed her gaze on Ninsha. “He will beat me. He will forbid me to see Surinam. Today he said he wants to marry me. Ninsha, what should I do?”

“If he said that, and if he means it truely,” said Ninsha, “speak to your aunt. Tell her that Surinam is a good boy, and that he will inherit the dyeing shop, that he is sober and kind, and would not beat you. Tell her that you want to marry him, and that he has proposed. But you must tell her soon, so she can tell your father before he finds out from the men. So you must tell her tonight and she must speak to him tomorrow, before he goes out. He will still be angry, but not nearly as much as he will be if he is shamed before the other men because they know and he does not.”

Jawa sighed. “You are clever, clever, clever, Ninsha. You are right. I will speak to her tonight. Hai, hai, what Gazia has told me troubles my heart greatly. I should not have spoken to my father about the knots. We are all girls together, we should look out for each other. I should not have spoken about you and Gazia, Ninsha. I was jealous, jealous because you do everything so well. But, but … I have something to tell you, and I have a plan. A faranj bela arrived in Adir from Findias two weeks ago. Hai, she is a bela, a silk bela indeed. Taller than my father, slender as an Agammu reed, skin like the day old rose petal, hair like the glowing embers of a cedarwood fire. Already in the marketplace they call her the Findian Ninlil, the maiden of the moon. Hai, what would I give to look like that.”

“Never mind, Jawa. You have Surinam, she does not.”

“Hai, if I looked like that, I would have the atu of Qui, not a dye boy.”

“A dye boy in the hand is worth a hundred lugals in the eye of wishing. What is this faranja doing here?”

“Hai, she is the strangest bela I have ever seen, but maybe all Findian belas behave like that. I saw her at Sedon’s tea shop, across from the temple of Ea, sitting, a bela by herself, and she had a board in front of her, and pens, and she was drawing. I went round behind and looked, and it was the temple of Ea, that she was drawing. Just sitting there, by herself, in the teashop, drawing. Do you think she was casting a spell? Do you think she is a witch?”

“Jawa, do you think that the priests of Ea would let her draw the temple if they thought she was a witch? But, a bela by herself in Adir, even a faranja? No servant?”

“Not right there with her, no. But a few paces away, in the shadows, was an old man with the purple sash of House Taskarin.”

“That is enough.”

“Yes, in Adir. Though she did not seem to notice him. I do not think she knows he is there for her. And this is what I wanted to say, Ninsha. She lodges with Iqbal the merchant, and it is said she has no maid, no servant at all. Ninsha, you could be her maid.”

“Yes!” said Gazia. “Yes, you could, Ninsha.”

Ninsha smiled and shook her head. “Do you think there would not be a hundred girls in Adir with the same idea? If she has no maid already, it is because she does not want a maid. If she does, why should she choose me?”

“Because she draws buildings, Nini. That means she is clever, because clever people do things that ordinary people cannot understand. So she is clever and you are clever.”

Ninsha shook her head. If only it was as simple as that.

“Yes!” said Jawa. “She is as clever as a scribe. Iqbal’s footman, who serves at table, says she talks like a man … no, not like a man, but of what a man, some men, talk. She talks like a merchant who has seen many places, and also like a sage who has many deep thoughts. And she wants to travel to Umar, and you have been to Umar, Ninsha, you said once, so that is another reason. Though she might not be allowed to go there, for she needs permission from the council, and the beltu will not see her.”

“Why does she need permission?” said Gazia. “Why does she not just go?”

“Because she is a faranga and a bela. The council do not allow just anyone to wander around Aria, spying on us. If she just went, she would be turned back at the first serai. A common farangi, part of a merchant’s caravan, might sneak through, but never a bela. Especially that bela.”

 “Oh? Why is that?”

“Hai! Looking looking like she does? How could she hide? But also because a bela must act like a bela, and not like a thief in the night, sneaking around. And that is why the beltu will not see her, because she did not properly announce herself as a visiting bela should. ”

“But the beltu knows she is here. She has sent a manservant to watch over her.”

“Of course. Amata beltu knows when the cat of the second daughter of third grade muleteer Nabdu has kittens. So from the moment the faranja bela stepped off the ship, Amata beltu knew she was here. But the bela has not approached the beltu as a bela should. So the beltu does not acknowledge her. Ensures she comes to no harm, as she would, but does not openly recognise that she is here. And she will not see her, let alone put her request before the council.”

“Can no one else put her request before the council?” said Gazia.

Jawa looked at Ninsha and Ninsha shook her head. “For a woman to put a request to the council of Adir is almost unheard of. Most women’s requests are dealt with by common scribes. If the matter was big enough, the woman would approach Amata beltu, and she, as the only woman on the council, would be put it before them. For the faranj bela to apply to any male council member would cause more offence than she already has done, and her request would certainly be refused.” She turned to Jawa. “So Amata beltu is refusing to see the Findian bela. Will she just let her go back to Findias, unacknowledged?”

“Who can tell what Amata beltu might do? Family Taskarin is deep, and Amata beltu is the deepest of the Taskarin, after the lugal. She may, she may not. But, and this is what you must know, Ninsha, that every day at noon the Findian bela crosses the marketplace to go to House Taskarin to ask to see Amata beltu. So that is when you can speak to her.”

“Ninsha,” said Gazia, “you must try. You must try, because … because you must.”

“How can she go?” said Anba, scowling. “She must be here, at work. I will not cover for her.”

“Hold your tongue, Anba,” said Jawa. “You would not cover for your own mother.” She turned to Ninsha. “I will cover for you, Ninsha, and you must speak to the faranj bela. You must show her that you are clever.”

Ninsha looked at Gazia. “And you, if the bela takes me?”

“One does not cross the Iribal in a day, Nini. Try, succeed, then let us see.”


	4. The market place

Would she come today? Yesterday she had not. This was Ninsha’s fourth day of trying, and must be the absolute last.

Except when her mother had died, or Gazia had been ill, she had never missed a day’s work. So at first Saloman had not looked too closely at Jawa’s excuses for her absence. And every night Ninsha and Gazia had stayed behind make sure her day’s work was done, even though it meant going home in the dark, the dangerous dark.

But yesterday, after two days away, Saloman had been angry. So today he would be furious. If the faranja bela did not come, that was it.

No, there she came. There was no mistaking her: she dressed like the other women, with covered head, a black shawl over a light grey full-sleeved blouse, and dark grey skirt, but with her slim figure, uprightness and long quick strides, no one would take her even at a distance for an Adiri woman.

And of course, when she came close, any doubt was snuffed out by the sight of her pale skin and delicate features.

Men and women turned to look as she passed, but even though she walked with head erect, looking around, she appeared not to notice their stares.

Would she notice Ninsha? Every day the girl had climbed onto the plinth of the gatepost at the Agammu Gate to wait. She was as high as she would be on Tsu-tsu’s back, and she hoped for a glance from the faranja bela. Of course, it might be the hammerman who noticed her, for sometimes his work brought him to the marketplace, but that was a chance she had to take. Yesterday she had been noticed by someone in Amata beltu’s household, for a doorman from the house had come to ask what she was doing. She told him the truth. She might lie to another, saying she was waiting for her brother or her father, but only a fool lied to the beltu.

And the bela had seen her, Ninsha was sure, but she had not responded to Ninsha’s shy smile.

That first day Jawa had asked why she did not simply go up to the bela and ask her, but Ninsha knew this would never work. A woman who looked like that, and a stranger in Adir: people must accost her all the time. Bazaar boys, sweetmeat sellers, opium dealers, they had no shame: a bela’s first instinct must be to say no and turn away from all of them. So Ninsha knew she must first wait for a sign from the bela before she approached her, no matter what the cost. And even then, she knew the chances of the bela saying ‘yes’ were almost none, as small as finding a live mouse in a room full of cats.

And – there, she got it. A glance towards her, a slight smile, an upward curl at the ends of the bela’s lips in response to Ninsha’s small smile.

Her heart thudding against her ribs, Ninsha slipped off the plinth and pushed through the throng to the bela’s side.

“Bela-mah?” She said, and waited until the bela responded with a sidelong glance. “Does the bela-mah have need of a maid?”

The bela looked down at her. Hai, she was even more exotic from close-up. A long, narrow nose, green eyes, and wisps of flame coloured hair escaping from her headscarf.

“No, I do not need a maid.” She spoke softly, clearly and at a measured pace.

“But the bela’s clothes, the washing off of the dust and the mud of Adir. I know wool, I know flax, I know linen. I am silk gentle, bela-mah.”

“No, I am sorry. I do not need a maid. I will not be in Adir for long.”

“I can travel, bela-mah. I know the serais, I know Umar.”

“I would not take you from your family.”

“I have no family, bela-mah. Just my sister.”

The bela smiled. “Even more then, I would not take you from your sister. I am sorry, but I do not need a maid.”

“Yes, bela-mah. Thank you for listening to my plea, bela-mah. I wish you well on your journey.” She stopped, bowed her head, and turned away.

She blinked back the tears. It was what she had expected, no reason to cry. If the bela had wanted a maid, she would have one already.

She’d been refused, yes, but gently, with caring and respect, almost regret. The last person to treat her like that had been her amamah. Hai, to have a bela like that as mistress!

She climbed back onto the plinth to watch the bela cross the marketplace and go up the steps of the veranda of House Taskarin.

Even as the bela raised her hand to knock, the door opened and the doorman stepped out. Ninsha watched as he spoke to the bela, his gestures, and hers in return: her hands coming out in supplication, her shoulders rising in resignation. She had been refused, again. Amata beltu would not see her.

Ninsha climbed down from the plinth. Back to the weaver shop to face Saloman’s anger. And the future.

“You little bitch-”

Almost instinctively, Ninsha threw herself to the left, moving with the blow coming from the right. It still caught her, on the side of the head, knocking her down.

She rolled as she hit the slimy cobbles, away, and back onto her feet, hearing the roar of anger and frustration from the hammerman that she had dodged his punishment.

Ducking and weaving around the people, dogs barking at her, she ran through the marketplace towards House Taskarin, not knowing why. Neither bela nor beltu had any reason to help her.

A few hands reached out to grab her, but most men stepped out of the way, then back when she had passed. Were they sympathetic to her? From behind her came the hammerman’s yells.

In front of her, she saw men carrying the litter of a dignitary. She swerved to avoid them, but then fell sprawling across the cobbles, tripped by an outthrust foot. She had a glimpse of a tall, broad figure wrapped in a green cloak, his face almost hidden, but the pale skin and green eyes of a faranji sneering at her.

Before she could scramble away, hands gripped her upper arms and dragged her to her feet.

“Got you.” The gust of foul breath was followed by two blows across her face, back and forth. Then he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, like a sack of meal. “You little bitch. Skulkin’ here instead of working at your loom. Lazy, useless offal. Can’t cook, can’t weave, tryin’ to run away. And he’s sacked you, you know that? I’m goin’ to sell you, tundra trash. See how you like bein’ in t’gutters of Ishtar.”

Hai! She began struggling and screaming, though she knew it was useless. Men muttered and scowled as he strode through the crowd, but nobody tried to stop him. Until-

“Stop! Stop, what you are doing with that girl! Put her down. Put her down this instant!”

The faranj bela? Hai, what would he do? Just walk over her? But no, he stopped, stepped back and put Ninsha down onto her feet but gripping her shoulders hard with his hands.

Yes, the faranj bela, the red colour high in her cheeks, her eyes blazing. She was as tall as the hammerman, but as slender as he was thick, a dragonfly to a marsh toad. But such was the force of her fury that he obeyed her.

“Let her go! Take your hands off her, do you hear me? Let her go!”

He did, and immediately the bela took her by the shoulders and thrust her behind herself. Hai, what did this mean?

But now the hammerman collected himself. “Hai, give her back! She’s not yours, she’s mine, my daughter, to correct as I please if she’s disobedient. Give her back.”

“She is not yours, she is not mine, she is her own. To correct? Is that correction? You hit her, across the face.” Her voice rose, so all could hear. “And do not attempt to deny it, for all men saw you. Is that not so, O men of the city of Adir?” Hai, if the bela could get the crowd on her side ... but would they support a faranja against one of their own?

Yes, they nodded, some of them, and murmured agreement. One to the bela.

“Is it correction for a big, strong man, a man who wields the hammer in a smithy, to strike a child, a girl child, one who looks to you for protection? Is this a manly action? Is this the way for a man of Adir to behave? Do the men of Adir beat their children? Girl children? Is this honourable?”

Again the men muttered. Hai, this faranj bela was clever.

“And you are not her father, but only her stepfather.”

His body swelled with indignation. “Hai, what’s that to you, you pale faced harridan? Before t’law she’s mine, because I married her mother, worthless trash that she was. So stand away,” and he stepped forward, into her space.

But the bela did not step back. Instead she raised her chin, and her voice, and spoke so all could hear. “Before the law, yes, the law that entrusted this child to your care, to treat with love and gentleness, to bring her up as your own flesh and blood. But what do you do? You beat her! Does the law allow you to assault your stepdaughter?”

The hammerman glanced left and right, saw the hard faces, and stepped back. Another one to the bela. “But she’s neglectful and disobedient! She left her work in t’weaver shop.”

“So for that you beat her? Will that get the work done? If indeed she left it undone. And is it then written in your sacred scrolls that you may beat your children? You may correct them, yes, but gently and with love. Is striking a child across the face an act of love? Do your sacred writings allow that?”

Oh no, the temple did not approve of women talking of religion. And she could see the black conical hat of a priest over there. But around them, the men muttered and frowned at the hammerman.

He shuffled his feet. “A mistake, bela, a mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt t’girl.”

“But you did hurt her. A big, strong man, you struck a girl child, your own stepdaughter, in the face, in defiance of honour, in defiance of the law, in defiance of your religion. And not only did you strike her, you picked her up and carried her away. You ignored her pleading. You ignored her struggles. You thought only of your anger. Her fear and trembling, her needs and wishes carried no weight with you. Is this right, is such behaviour honourable, lawful or righteous?” She turned to the crowd and said, “Is this what the men of Adir want, that I should return to Findias believing that the men of Adir are child beaters?”

The mutterings were louder now. And yes, to judge by the angry looks and their direction, some were because a foreigner, worse, a female foreigner, should have the effrontery to speak so to a man of Adir, but more directed at the hammerman for bringing Adir into disrepute.

He felt it. “Hai, bela, t’heat of anger came over me when t’weavermaster told me she was not at her loom, and had been absent, yes, for four days. I was hurt, yes, hurt in my heart that t’girl who I’d fed and housed, should repay me thus.”

How could he say that with a straight face. He had no heart to be hurt, and had demanded they labour for their bread from the day he had married their mother. A crust had never passed their lips that they had not earned themselves.

“And it did not occur to you to ask her what she was doing here? It did not occur to you that perhaps she was trying to help you, that if she took employment with me as my maid, then that would mean one less mouth to feed?”

“The bela means to employ Ninsha as a maid?” Now his greedy mind was calculating. “But she’s to go to t’temple, to be apprenticed to a trade.”

“And what trade might that be? If it is respectable …”

No! But the hammerman felt the same: from the temple he would get one, maybe two shekels for her. From a foreigner, especially a woman whose heart could be wrung, along with her purse …  He lowered his gaze and waggled his head. “Hai, bela, there are few respectable trades. Maid to a bela is t’best, t’best. But there’s t’fee. I’d be losing t’value of her skilled work in t’weaver shop, her help in my house, and t’apprenticeship fee t’temple’d pay me.”

“A loving father would not be concerned about that if his daughter was well looked after.”

He raised both hands, palm upward. “I am a poor man, bela. And there’s her sister to be cared for. T’money has to be thought of, though it pains me.”

What lies, what greed! She hated to see the bela taken in, but even more did she want to take service with her, and, much much more, did Ishtar loom as the loss of everything. For the first time ever, she and the hammerman had the same aim, though with very different reasons.

“Very well. I will pay you, say, six shekels in silver, and will undertake to look after your step-daughter, treat her well, and train her in her duties as a lady’s maid. Does that sound satisfactory?”

Hai! That was more that half the price of a male slave. Even his greed will be satisfied with that.

He nodded and the bela called aloud, “Men of Adir, you are witness to this contract, and to my payment to the stepfather of this girl,” and she counted out six silver coins into the hands of the hammerman.

But now there was a disturbance, and Ninsha turn to see the black robed priest pushing through the crowd.

“Stop, this may not be,” he said. “Faranji may not buy Adiri slaves. No Adiri girl may be given to a faranja.”

“Abgal-dar,” said the bela, “I am not buying a slave, I am engaging a young girl as a maid.”

He glared at her. “Hai, you are a faranja of that cesspit of vice, Findias. Who can say what aberrant practices you will teach her.”

“Abgal-dar, I do not know what you are talking about. I teach learning and have no aberrant practices. I am in Adir, and wish to go to Umar, to further my own education.”

“How can your mouth utter such lies! Have I not seen you striding around with great, unwomanly steps, have I not seen you staring a man in the face instead of casting your eyes down, meek and submissive as a woman should be? Have I not seen, and heard, you raise your voice in conflict, and with a man; and addressing other men loudly, here in the marketplace? Even now, you argue with a priest of an Adiri temple. And you say no aberrant practices!”

“Rescuing a child from a man who would beat her is an aberrant practice?”

“Your behaviour is unseemly, faranja. Worse, it is immodest and unwomanly. That is aberrant. And do you deny there is vice in Findias?”

“Of course I do not deny that. There is vice everywhere. It does not follow that everyone in that place practices vice.”

“Hai, you admit it. No, this girl was promised to the temple, and to the temple she goes. We will save her from your deviant ways.”

The bela turned to look at her. “How does that sit with you? Do you wish to be apprenticed to a trade with the temple?”

No, a thousand times no! “Bela, it is not to a trade but to the temple of Ishtar that I will be made to go, to take the star.” Would the bela know what that meant? She could not use the word.

“Oh! Oh, no!” She turned back to the priest and said, “You accuse me of aberrant practices, but you intend to make this girl into a prostitute! What can be viler than that!”

Hai: the bela used the word with no hesitation! And to a priest, to his very face. That was dangerous: no one speaks thus to a priest.

The priest swelled like an Agammu bullfrog. “Faranja bitch, she will be carrying out sacred duties, she will be serving the goddess Ishtar. How dare you use such words!”

“I merely use the words, but it is you, you, who do the deeds. That is indescribably worse. This is vice, indeed, and sanctioned by the temple, which makes it even more vile. This is a violation of The Me.”

Bela, bela, stop, stop! To thus cross a temple priest and insult his temple is to cut your own throat. And then to speak of the Holy Law. This is not Findias, bela.

The priest raised his fist as if to strike the bela, but she did not flinch. Then he leant forward, and spat, the blob of spittle landing on the bela’s scarf. As the bela stepped back, Ninsha darted round in front of her and, with a clean edge of her sleeve, wiped off the spittle. The bela had a look of disgust on her face.

“You are a witch, a witch practising the black arts,” the priest shouted, “I have seen you casting your spells, sitting with your pen and parchment, weaving enchantments around Adir. Now not only do you cast sacrilegious aspersions on the temple of Ishtar, you take it on yourself to interpret our sacred laws.”

His voice rose to a scream. “We will burn you, burn you for your blasphemy.” He turned to the men around him. “Seize her, bring her to the trial grounds.”

Hai, was it all going to end like that? What had she brought this bela to?

Ninsha spun to face the crowd. “This bela is the daughter of the Earl of Findias,” she shouted. “If you touch her, he will burn Adir.”

The priest pointed at her and shouted, “You lie, lie before the goddess Ishtar, tundra gutter girl. We will burn you with your mistress.”

“Hold.”

The priest turned and so did the bela, for the word was spoken abruptly, as by one who was accustomed to be obeyed.

The curtains of the litter had opened. A man dressed in the grey conical hat and robes of a high priest of a temple was sitting there, cross-legged, a carved rod of office on his lap. Around them all fell silent.

The black robed priest bowed low. “Sukkal-mah,” he said, as fawning as a market trickster before a magistrate.

“My son, in your praiseworthy but overzealous defence of your temple, you have exceeded your knowledge and authority. It is plain to me that this bela, in her own land, is a priestess of Enki, god of Wisdom and Learning. Do you wish to bring down the wrath of Enki on Adir, with your talk of trials and burning? Would Tiamat be pleased by such a sacrifice? Consider also that what would be blasphemy for a secular woman is not blasphemy for a priestess. Furthermore it is clear that this bela walks the paths of life seeking truth, as do we all. If she wishes to go to Umar in that pursuit, and needs a maid, as a bela would, then it is not for the temple to place impediments in her path.”

Hai, what was this? If she had said just half what the bela had said, she would have been taken beyond the city walls and stoned to death. But here was a high priest saying that black was white, sea was land, rain fell on the desert, taking her bela’s side? Why? What was in it for him?

The black robed priest bowed again. “It shall be as the sukkal deems fit.”

The sukkal turned to the bela and inclined his head towards her. “I wish you well on your journey, bela. Perhaps we shall meet again. Hammerman, you will pay four silver shekels to the temple of Ishtar for the loss of the maid,” and he tapped on the side of his litter with the rod, closing the curtain as his bearers strode off.

They should also go, and quickly. She needed to get the bela away, before her wayward tongue got them into more trouble. Not that it seemed likely: the bela was looking stunned, too stunned even to respond to the sukkal. As one might, if one had been threatened with burning just moments before, and then rescued by one no less than a sukkal. Hai, this tale had had more twists and turns than an Agammu eel.

She touched the bela’s hand. “Bela? Shall we go to your lodgings, bela?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, I suppose we should,” and the bela put her hand on Ninsha’s shoulder, and let Ninsha lead her away.

The crowd parted, the men returning to their work, but more than one bent his head, touched the heel of his open palm to his forehead and said, “Akadug, bela-mah, akadug.”

The bela nodded and smiled in return, but when the crowd thinned, she said to Ninsha, “Ninsha? That is your name, isn’t it? Mine is Lea. What does that gesture mean, and that word, ‘Akadug?’”

“Yes, bela: Ninsha. The gesture shows respect, it gives homage to one showing courage and honour. It is called the ‘kiridu,’ bela. The word ‘akadug’ means, ‘It is well done,’ bela.”

“Oh.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I think that must be … the most frightening thing I’ve ever done. I’ve spoken to groups before, but … to confront a man like that, a grown man, as big as a bull, and then to address a crowd in the marketplace … I felt they could have turned on me at any time. And that priest threatening to burn me. I don’t know when I have ever been so scared.”

It was true, she could feel the bela trembling. She had seemed so calm and in control, but all the time she had been terrified. Ninsha made the homage gesture. “It was very brave, bela, and I must thank you.”

“Oh, Ninsha, I must thank you rather, for trying to help me. That was very brave of you, considering you don’t know me, and owe me nothing.”

Rescuing her from the hammerman was nothing? But … did that mean the bela hadn’t meant what she said, and would turn Ninsha away, now that she was out of the hammerman’s hands?

Should she ask her if that was what she wanted? After all, the bela had said that she didn’t want a maid. But then Ninsha would be cast back into that pit of hopelessness, without now even a job. If she went back to the hammerman she would have the star of Ishtar before she could blink. And what about Gazia? Somehow she was going to use this opportunity to get her sister out of the pit. But, but …the bela had behaved with such courage and compassion, rescuing a girl so unknown the bela didn’t even know her name: was it right to force a maid on her … hai, Ninsha was torn.

“Bela-mah?” It was not her voice, looking to make a bonfire of her hopes, but that of a man, a man wearing the livery of House Taskarin. “Bela-mah, if it is convenient, Amatu beltu Taskarin will see you now.”

“Oh.” The grip on Ninsha’s shoulder tightened. “Yes. Yes, of course it is convenient, but…” She gestured to where the spit had landed. “I cannot see the beltu like this, befouled.”

The man inclined his head again, and said, “Bela-mah, the beltu says that you may wash in House Taskarin, and that clean clothing is on hand.”

“Oh. Yes, all right. I am grateful to the beltu. I will come now.” As the man turned, the bela glanced at Ninsha with raised eyebrows.

Oh, that look! The bela was surprised that the beltu had relented, yes, but that she should share that with her new maid? Her bela trusted her, saw her as someone on her side, someone to share her feelings with. Ninsha’s heart warmed to her: she would earn that trust. And her question? Ninsha put it to the back of her mind. She hoped she’d never have to ask it.


	5. Ninsha and the beltu

“At last! The beltu has been waiting. Clean now, I hope?”

Hai, the housekeeper again. She was only as tall as Ninsha, but twice as wide, and what she lacked in height she made up in aura of command.

She had been behind the doorman when he had opened the door of House Taskarin. To Lea bela she had bowed and smiled, but her smile is vanished when she saw Ninsha, all muddy from rolling on the marketplace cobbles. She had ordered Ninsha to the back entrance, but Lea bela had said she didn’t want Ninsha wandering around the marketplace alone. Hai, what did the bela think she had been doing for the past two years? And the housekeeper, merely raising her eyebrows, had had Ninsha wrapped in a blanket and carried, like a skinned goat, through the passages to the servants’ quarters at the back. There, two maids, rushing, rushing, rushing, had stripped her, stripped her to the skin, and washed her, head to toe, in a little tiled room. The water came, sprinkling, from a bronze rose in the ceiling, and Ninsha had clenched her teeth, expecting to be frozen, but the water was warm. Hai, what must it be like to live in a place where they had warm water on tap, all the time!

The maids had wrinkled their noses, of course, and scolded her all the time, but when one of them complained about having to wash the tundra girl, the other told her to watch her tongue, for the beltu did not hold with such terms.

Then they had towelled her dry, quick and rough, and dressed her in clean clothes, new clothes, the dress of a maid of House Taskarin. She’d never had new clothes like this before. Then, still scolding, they had rushed her back along the passages to the family quarters, where the housekeeper was waiting.

“Yes, bela-mah, I am clean now, though I was clean before.”

“Don’t answer back, girl. If you don’t show respect, you will be back on the street before you can blink.”

“I understand that, bela-mah, but I did not want you to think I am normally dirty like that.”

The housekeeper nodded. “All right. And don’t ‘bela’ me, girl. I am the housekeeper, not a lady. You may address me by my name, Jada.”

“Yes, Jada-sikil-mah.”

The housekeeper smiled. “And don’t ‘mah’ me either. I am not ‘great’ in any sense of the word. Now listen. Your bela will be here in a few moments, and then you will go in to see the beltu. It is the beltu who will decide if you are good enough for the bela. When the beltu asks you a question, look at her and speak your answer slowly and clearly. Don’t mumble. Above all, tell the truth. Amata beltu can scent a lie in a sewer. Never forget that. Don’t even embellish. Do you know what embellish means?”

“It means to puff up, to add false flowers. I know, all Adir knows, Jada-sikil, that only a fool lies to the beltu.”

The housekeeper nodded. “I see you have wits, girl. Use them. Here comes your bela. Ready?”

Ninsha gulped. “Yes, Jada-sikil.”

 

Hai, there she was, Amata, the beltu of Adir, priestess of Enlil, scholar of The Me, magistrate, counsellor to the lugal, councillor of Adir . She was sitting on a couch, and Ninsha, tundra girl, was in the same room. Here, more than anywhere, she must not talk tundra. Though perhaps, from what she had heard of Amata beltu, she was the one person in Adir to who Ninsha could talk tundra, and not be despised for it.

Ninsha had seen her only once before, walking through the marketplace under a fringed canopy, attendants before and behind. She was of ordinary height, ordinary build, and wore ordinary clothes. She seemed very ordinary, until she looked at you. Her eyes fixed you, pinned you to the wall. Then you saw why people said she could read minds, and feared her. But also loved her, for she was wise, just and compassionate. And for the same reasons, hated by the priests.

Ninsha bowed her head, fixing her eyes on the floor.

The bela too, bowed her head, but then raised it again, looking at the beltu.

“Peace be with you, Lea bela,” said the beltu, “and with you, child.”

“Peace be with you, Amata beltu, ” said the bela, and Ninsha repeated it, but speaking so softly that she wondered if the beltu even heard her.

“I trust you no longer feel defiled, Lea bela,” said the beltu.

“I do not, Amata beltu, and thank you for providing washing facilities and the loan of a scarf. Thank you also for receiving me. I see you know my name.”

“I did not intend to receive you, Lea bela.” The beltu’s face was stern and Ninsha trembled, even though the sternness was not for her. “In due course I will tell you why. But today you made me change my mind. Whether or not that will be of benefit to you remains to be seen. As to your name, you gave that to my doorman on each of the seven occasions that you have approached me.”

Hai, the beltu did not mince her words. And clearly the bela was taken aback by her directness. “I am really sorry, Amata beltu, if something I have said or done has caused offence. If so, it was unintentional.”

“Was it? But let us deal with that at the appropriate time. For now, the good outweighs the bad, so I am receiving you and we will see what comes of it.” She stretched out her hand, saying, “It is the custom of this land, Lea bela, to sit on rugs. However, I find my knees do not bend as well as they used to. So I have adopted the Findian custom of having a sofa. Would you join me here and take tea with me?”

“Thank you, Amata beltu. I would be honoured to take tea with you,” and she went to the end of the sofa, and sat down. The bela was handling this well, considering how short the beltu had been with her.

The beltu clapped her hands once. The curtains of an inner door parted and a maid stepped through, carrying a tray with a tall silver teapot and two small tea glasses.

“Ibba, give the tray to Ninsha, and we will see how she serves tea.”

Hai: the beltu knew her name too!

The maid’s eyes narrowed, and her lip curled when she saw how Ninsha was trembling. She put the tray into Ninsha’s hands, and stepped back, watching.

“That will be all, Ibba, thank you,” said the beltu, and the maid reddened. Then she bowed her head and backed out of the room.

Walking forward carefully, Ninsha carried the tray to the beltu. The beltu smiled and nodded, and filled two glasses with the hot red liquid. Ninsha stood there, waiting to the beltu to take one.

“Guests first, Ninsha. Among the guests, rank first, and if rank is equal, age first. Then the hostess.”

“Yes, beltu-mah. I will remember.” She turned and took two steps to the bela, offering up the tray for her to take a glass.

The bela smiled at her, and said, “Thank you, Ninsha. I don’t take sugar.”

Ninsha turned back to the beltu, and silently held up the tray, offering her her glass.

“Good, Ninsha. Now put the tray on the table at the door.”

When Ninsha had done so, the beltu said, “Would you like to sit on that stool, Ninsha?”

Hai: sit in the beltu’s presence? “Thank you, beltu-mah, but if I may, I would rather stand.”

The beltu nodded and, taking a sip of her tea, turned to the bela. “I know what you have come to ask me, Lea bela. There are more considerations at play here than you may be aware of. For this reason I wish to assess the girl you propose to take as a maid, to judge whether or not she is suitable. Is this acceptable to you?”

“I … I have engaged to employ her, Amata beltu. I cannot, in honour, just turn her away now.”

“I am glad to hear you say that, Lea bela. But if I was to lay a proposal regarding a journey before the council of Adir, and I am not saying that I will, or that, if I do, permission will be granted, I would wish to know that those who went on this journey with you have the necessary qualities. While it might not be what you had in mind, would it breach your agreement with this girl if she were to be left behind, should this, in my judgement, be the best thing to do?”

“Well, no, I suppose not. She could remain here, somewhere safe, and still be in my employ.”

“Good. And will you trust my judgement in what and how I ask her?”

“Oh. I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

The beltu nodded. “Good. I see you feel a protectiveness towards her. What I have to ask Ninsha, Lea bela, may exceed the bounds of courtesy in your culture. Indeed they may do so in mine as well. You may feel that I probe too deeply into matters which are no concern of mine. You may feel my questions cause pain to this girl. But I believe they are necessary. What I am asking you, Lea bela, is whether you trust me enough to let me question her without interfering, even though you may feel that what I’m doing is wrong. Though you know as little of me as I do of you, perhaps, I am asking you to trust me.”

The bela looked at her, then at Ninsha, then back at the beltu. “I do feel a responsibility for her, yes. If I may speak plainly, Amata beltu,” she paused, and the beltu gestured for her to continue. “I know you have a reputation for wisdom and fairness, but also for plain-speaking and searching scrutiny, and if your questions were to hurt her…” She turned to Ninsha. “How do you feel about that, Ninsha?”

“I am happy to answer whatever the beltu wishes to ask me, bela. Though I thank you for your concern.”

The bela turned to the beltu. “Thank you for asking, Amata beltu. I shall listen, if I may, and not interfere.”

“Thank you, Lea bela. Let us proceed then.” The beltu turned to Ninsha.

This was terrifying. She was standing in front of the most powerful woman in Adir. A frown from her could blight a person’s life. She must tread carefully, oh so carefully.

“So, child, you are clean now?”

Hai, she had not expected such a question. “Yes, beltu-mah, thank you. Though, if you please, I was clean before. Before I had to escape from … that man.”

“Your stepfather. Is there a place to wash where you lodge with him?”

“Not really, beltu-mah. We have a jug of water in our attic, but it is difficult to wash properly, all over, there.”

“But you were clean today.”

“Yes, beltu-mah. I could not approach the bela unless I was clean.”

“So how did you wash, Ninsha?”

This was passing strange: not who are you, where do you come from, what skills as a lady’s maid do you have, but how did you wash today?

“I washed at the river, beltu-mah, at dawn, when no one was around.”

“The river water is filthy and disease-ridden, Ninsha, not to speak of very cold at this time of year. Did you wash in that?”

“No, beltu-mah. I washed at the river, but in the stream which comes down from the Iribal. My sister poured the water over me.”

The beltu raised her eyebrows. “A mountain stream. That is clean but even colder.”

“We walk very quickly from there to the weaver shop, beltu-mah, and at the weaver shop it is my task to build up the fire. And so I warmed myself.”

“And your sister?”

“Oh no, beltu-mah. She is too young, the water is too cold. Her fingers are still small, she can still knot the silk. So she did not have to approach the bela.”

“It was only today you approached the bela, but you have been at the Agammu Gate for four days.”

Hai, the beltu’s eyes were everywhere. “Yes, beltu-mah. I could not approach the bela until she had noticed me. Otherwise I could be just anybody.”

“So every day you washed in the Iribal stream, just on the chance that the bela might notice you.”

“Yes, beltu-mah. It had to be right, and there was no other way.”

The beltu nodded, and said, “And your mother?”

“We have no mother, beltu-mah. She is dead, a year ago. There is just me and my sister, Gazia.”

“I grieve for you, child. Tell me your story.”

She must tell the bare bones. In details lay trouble. “My family were nomads, beltu-mah, until two and a half years ago. When we lost our herd, we came to Adir. My father divorced my mother, and she married the hammerman. My sister and I found work in Salomon’s weaver shop, making the silk rugs. A year ago, my mother died in childbirth, with the baby. Now my fingers grow too big for making knots in the silk, so I must leave the weaver shop, and look for other work.” Would the beltu be satisfied with that?

She would not. “You describe it dispassionately, Ninsha, but behind every word lies a hill of sadness and despair, not to speak of a lake of tears. You say you lost the herd. Did your father gamble?”

“No!” Hai, she must not speak so, to the beltu. She bowed her head. “Beltu-mah, forgive me. I spoke in passion, and I should not. But my father was an honourable man, who loved us. He would never have gambled. We had two hard winters, beltu-mah, and lost more than half the herd. My father took a loan to restock, with interest to be paid in calves every spring. But in the second year they came early, the lenders, before the calving of the caribou, and claimed the interest, the calves, was due there and then. That could never be, for the calves were not born, but they said my father was in default, and took the herd. They would have taken everything, but my father managed to hide a few ‘bou, sufficient to get us to Adir. He was an honourable man, beltu-mah. I did not know that until I saw what other men were like.”

“But he abandoned you in Adir. He divorced your mother.”

“No! Hai, beltu-mah, forgive me again, I beg you. This loss lies skinned raw in my soul. My father said that he could not support us, could not be a husband to my mother, could not be a father to Gazia and me, for he had lost his manhood. He brought us to Adir, he sold the last remaining ‘bou to pay the marriage broker to get a good husband for my mother, and the work agent to get secure jobs for Gazia and me. Although his soul was dead within him, he still did what he could for us before he …” She could not finish.

“He walked into the desert.”

Ninsha nodded, trying to blink back the tears. She had thought those wells had long since run dry.

“Amata beltu,” said the bela, “this is painful for Ninsha. Is it really necessary to ask these questions?”

The beltu looked at her. “It is, Lea bela. I do not do it without reason. You agreed to trust me. Do you wish to change your mind?”

“No. No, Amata beltu. I trust your judgement. It is just that she is being forced to relive her suffering.”

The beltu nodded. “I know. But it is necessary.” She turned back to Ninsha. “Your father acted like a man, though he denied his manhood. Your mother’s second marriage was not a success?”

“No, beltu-mah. The hammerman beat her. He beat us all. He despised us as tundra people. It was a bad match, though my father paid the broker well. He believed others were as honourable as he. I know better now.”

“Who was the marriage broker?”

“Zugal of Sikin, in Fetter Lane.”

The beltu gave a single, slow nod. Hai, if that meant what she thought it did … She would not like to be marriage broker Zugal.

“The loan to your father, to restock the herd. Was it made here in Adir?”

She dropped her gaze, fixed her eyes on an Agammu reed in the rug. The symmetry was wrong and green of the leaves was too light. “No, beltu-mah, it was made in the city of Umar.”

“At a punitive rate of interest, I am sure. Not many will lend to a nomad.”

“We had a herd of black ‘bou, which all desired, beltu-mah, and so they were willing to make the loan.”

“By whom was it made?”

Hai, this was the question she had been dreading. “Beltu-mah, I … It was made by an agent.”

“Whose agent?”

“Beltu-mah, I … I beg you, do not ask me.”

“I do ask you, Ninsha, and I want the truth. Look at me, Ninsha.”

She glanced up at the beltu, but could not hold her gaze. “Perhaps it was the agent who did it, beltu-mah, there was an evil man, a Findian gallu-”

“Whose agent made the loan to your father, Ninsha?”

Hai, hai, in a few moments she would be dragged from the house to the whipping post in the marketplace, then driven from the city into the desert, and Gazia with her, for the insult to a cousin of House Taskarin.

“The atu of Qui, beltu-mah. Forgive me,” and she fell to her knees.

“Amata beltu-” Lea bela’s voice, and out of the corner of her eye, Ninsha saw the beltu raise her hand to silence the bela.

“Stand up, child,” and she waited until Ninsha did so, but Ninsha could not look her in the face.

“Ninsha, look at me.”

Ninsha raised her head, and looked at the beltu. Hai, was that … pain in her face?

“First let me say, Ninsha, that I believe you. Secondly that I judge men by their actions, not by their blood or family relationship to me. An evil deed is an evil deed, whether it is done by my nephew or the marriage broker in Fetter Lane. Let us move on. Tell me of your skills, Ninsha.”

She wasn’t to be flogged and banished? “My skills, beltu-mah … I can wash clothing, and sweep and dust and-” She was gabbling, she knew.

“Not your housekeeping, Ninsha. Your skills.”

“I can weave, beltu-mah, wool and silk and flax, and care for clothing made of those. I can comb and spin, I-”

“‘Weaving’ covers all that. What other skills?”

What was the beltu looking for? Skills of washing in a stream in the early morning? How to run away from violent men? How to stop trembling in the presence of the beltu? “I have no other skills, beltu-mah.”

“Do you think so? What about your nomad skills?”

“Oh, I have those, beltu-mah. I can build a shelter in the snow, weave a basket from the reeds, mend and drive a sled, treat a sick animal, herd the caribou. But all those skills are worthless here.”

“Do you think so? Let us move on. Can you read and write, Ninsha?”

“Yes, beltu-mah, a little.”

“Indeed. Where did you learn, Ninsha? In Adir?”

“No, beltu-mah, on the tundra. When we stopped to trade our caribou in a town, I would find a scribe, and ask him to teach me. And then I would teach my sister. Oh, and I can count, beltu-mah, and do arithmetic, for I needed that for the herding. And the weaving.”

“I see. Would you like to learn more?”

“Oh yes, beltu-mah. I would love to learn to read properly. All the wisdom in the world is in books, beltu-mah.”

The beltu raised her eyebrows. “Do not confuse knowledge with wisdom, child. Some sages say that true wisdom is to be found only on the tundra.”

“Hai. I have never heard that, beltu-mah. On the tundra is only the tough ‘bou grass, the tussocks, the tarns, the hills stretching to the horizon. Only the wind, the mist and the rain. Only the empty land and the harsh weather, and staying alive. No books, beltu-mah.” She smiled.

And then wiped the smile from her face. She must be light-headed from shock, first to talk tundra, then to gabble on so, and then to smile at the beltu of Adir. But, wonder of wonders, the beltu smiled back.

Then she turned to the bela and said, “From what I have seen in the marketplace and heard here, Lea bela, I think Ninsha would be a good choice as maid.”


	6. Lea bela and the beltu

She would? Ninsha swallowed and blinked her eyes, to hold back the tears.

“Oh, I agree,” said her bela. “She has had such a hard life.”

“Indeed,” said the beltu, “though that would not necessarily make her a good maid. And less hard than you think, Lea bela. It is only in the city, here, in Adir, that her life has been hard. Is that not so, Ninsha?”

“Oh, yes, beltu-mah. Life on the tundra was wonderful. I never knew how wonderful. It was hard, yes, my grandmother had to … died, my father had lost half of one foot to frostbite, but there was much joy, much feeling of worth, in helping deliver the calves at calving time, in nursing a sick ’bou to health, in mending a broken sled. We were always laughing. It was paradise compared to Adir.” Hai, might the beltu take offence? “Not that I mean Adir is a bad place, beltu-mah, but for my family, simple people, it has been … not been good.”

“For a young nomad woman, alone with two children, without family, without support, Adir is a very bad place. Your father, child, would have done better to stay here and help his family. Though I accept he did what he thought best. Men and pride …” and she shook her head. Then she turned to the bela, “Let us discuss your situation, Lea bela.”

Her interrogation was over? Would the beltu wipe the floor with her bela too?

“As before, the protocol first. Do you mind if your maid listens to my questions and your answers, Lea bela?”

Her bela looked at Ninsha, then at the beltu. “I do not mind if you think it would be beneficial, Amata beltu.”

“Normally I would not recommend it. I believe that a certain distance should be kept between maid and mistress. And with some maids, familiarity would lead to contempt. However, from what I have seen of her character and yours, Lea bela, I believe this would not be the case here. So I think it would be beneficial.”

The bela smiled. “I have seen enough, Amata beltu, to trust your judgement.”

“Thank you. I wish I could say the same about yours, Lea bela.”

Hai, what a thing to say! Her bela’s smile vanished, her eyes widened and her cheeks coloured. But the beltu had a slight smile.

“Your judgement, Lea bela, seems likely to lead you into trouble. You are full young to be tired of life.”

Creases appeared on her bela’s clear brow. “I… I don’t understand, Amata beltu.”

“Out there.” The beltu gestured towards the marketplace. “You rushed to save her like a lioness her cub. Why?”

“He was hitting her, a young girl! And he was going to sell her!” The words came flooding, in outrage. “Your doorman said he was a bad man, not even her father, and that he was probably going to sell her to the temple of Ishtar. Even though I am a foreigner, I know what that means.”

“Indeed. And how comes it to be the business of a foreigner to save an Adiri girl from the temple of Ishtar? Would you save all such?”

Her bela’s chin lifted. “I would if I could!”

“I believe you. But at the risk of your own person? The marketplace is no place for a young woman to give rein to her impulses. Our men are not noted for their tolerance of unconventional behaviour in their own womenfolk, let alone strange maidens.”

“Amata beltu, I know that. It was impulsive, and in hindsight, reckless. But I had just been speaking to Ninsha, and she had been so gentle, so polite. When I turned her down she thanked me for listening to her. But, more than anything, she called her request a ‘plea’, and it was a word from her heart that went to mine. I almost changed my mind there and then. So to see her in the hands of that … great thug made my blood boil. But many of the marketplace men seemed sympathetic, and afterwards there was even some approval, for men made the kiridu gesture, and said, ‘Akadug’ to me.”

“The homage was earned, Lea bela. I do not deny that you handled the situation well. Your points on honour, law, religion, and reputation were well made, though better suited to a council debating chamber than a marketplace. Such crowds are swayed by emotion far more than logic. Your person, your courage and the rightness of your deed won you approval, not your reasoned argument. But any slight misjudgement of the mood of the people, any inadvertent touching on a cultural tenderpoint, could have turned the crowd against you. It could have become violent before you realised your error. I have already seen, Lea bela, that you do make cultural errors.”

“I am sure I do, Amata beltu. I could see that Ninsha and I were balanced on a knife edge. I don’t mind admitting that I was terrified. But if that priest hadn’t interfered, I think we would have got away with it.”

“That is probable. Even in Aria, Lea bela, there are those who support truth and justice, who oppose persecution and exploitation. Many, also, chafe under the temple yoke. But it was inevitable that the priest would interfere, Lea bela, for the temple does not approve of common citizens behaving unconventionally, particularly when that behaviour results from a point of principle. You were challenging the temple on a matter of what is right and what was wrong. Not that that individual saw it in those terms. You offended his narrow perception of how a woman should act. He was outraged that a woman should challenge a man directly, and doubly so when you addressed the men in the marketplace and argued in terms of law, culture and religion. And of course, he saw the loss of money, something which excites the interest of a priest greatly.”

“But the other priest, the sukkal,” said her bela, “he seemed much more reasonable, and told the junior priest off. He was so gracious and kind.”

Hai. A sukkal, gracious and kind? Even the beltu was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

“High priests are not generally known for being gracious and kind, Lea bela. That particular man is an archconservative, and was acting very much out of character. That gives me some concern as to his motives, but that is another matter.”

“But if he hadn’t interfered … well, it frightens me to think what might have happened.”

“Not what the priest of Ishtar threatened. Ninsha’s claim had already raised the image of Findian warships entering the harbour of Adir. Few, even temple fanatics, would risk that, blasphemy or not. And we do not execute people without trial, no matter what the temple court rules. But you were not to know how these things would work out, and could expect the worst. Yet you still risked yourself.”

“Amata beltu, I did not think. All I saw was a young girl who had been watching me these three or four days, and today came up to me as I passed, asking, so gently, to be my maid.”

“And you refused, but then changed your mind. Would you employ every girl in Adir at risk of exploitation?”

“The beltu is laughing at me.” But her bela was smiling.

The beltu sighed. “No, child, I am not. I admire your courage, I applaud your compassion, though not your foolhardiness. This would not happen in your culture, is that not so?”

“Amata beltu, exploitation happens in every culture. Everywhere the strong exploit the weak, be that strength power, wealth or mere brute size. But such overt exploitation, particularly of women and girls, no. Law, religion and custom all oppose it.”

“So you find us backward, and in our attitude towards women most of all?”

“‘Backward’ is derogatory, an emotive term, and not one that any ethnologist would use to describe a culture, Amata beltu. All societies are at different stages of development. All cultures have good points and bad points. In some ways, women are better off in your culture than in mine. Provided they have fathers and brothers, provided they are obedient and do with the family wants, they are well looked after. And your extended family system can be good for women too, more supportive in more ways than ours is. But,” she spread her hands, “the price is so high. For this protection and support, a girl must sacrifice any aspiration other than that of being a wife and a mother. What freedoms she has, she must give up. And should her husband be abusive, she is advised to put up with it. She must be subservient all her life.”

“In your culture, a woman has the freedom to do anything she wants, and you are the living example of that. Is that so?”

Her bela smiled. “Very few people in any culture have the freedom to do anything they want, Amata beltu. There are always constraints of cost, background, family aspiration and support, innate ability. I have been very fortunate that all those have been right for me. But even were I your daughter, Amata beltu, I could not do in Adir what I have done in Findias.”

“My daughter.” The beltu smiled and then, wonder upon wonder, chuckled. “You would cause revolution in Adir, with your ideas and deeds, as my daughter. The temple would be up in arms, House Taskarin would be shaken to the foundations, with your blithe and impetuous disregard of our traditions and customs. You would turn my hair white, child, as my daughter. After your actions today, I would be calling you many things, of which ‘foolish, headstrong girl’ would be the mildest. If your mother knew what you had done today, what would she feel? And, what would she think of me? Her daughter, in my city, endangering her life, and me, neglectful and uncaring?”

“Why should she think that? You are not responsible for my actions.”

The beltu shook her head. “Do you think so? Will you tell me, child, who your mother is?”

“She is a physician at the hospital in Findias.”

“Lady Elizabeth, head of paediatrics. Is that not so?”

“You have heard of her, Amata beltu?”

“Indeed I have, Lea bela. I have heard she does great good in Findias, healing many, uplifting lives. Also I have heard that she scorns the use of a litter, and walks about Findias on her feet, sometimes even without an escort, stopping to speak to beggars, particularly children, trying to persuade them to come to her hospital for treatment. She sounds as disdainful of Findian tradition as you are of Arian, Lea bela.” The beltu was smiling.

“Oh no, not at all.” She paused a moment then said, “or rather, yes: for neither of us are disdainful of the customs of the culture we are in. It is just that, sometimes, other imperatives override conventional behaviour. She considers fulfilling her vocation as a healer to be more important than the opinion of the ladies of the earl’s court.”

“Your actions today, Lea bela, are more understandable. Your mother would approve?”

Her bela smiled. “She would approve the end, but as to the means, she would be very angry with me.”

“As would any mother. You have no father living, Lea bela, but you are acquainted with the legendary Oenghus Ironrod.”

“He is my godfather, Amata beltu.”

“And would he approve of your actions here today?”

“Again, the end but not the means, though he would have done the same. But it is no concern of his. I am of age, a free and independent woman.”

“It is the concern of every man in the family if a young female relative puts herself in danger, as it reflects on him and his care of you.”

Her bela smiled and shook her head. “I know that is so in your culture, Amata beltu, but it is not in mine. Though it is true the ship’s captain demanded my godfather’s approval before he would allow me to embark. But my mother knows that my career is important to me, and so agreed to my coming here.”

The beltu sat back. “Well, Lea bela, your mother and godfather may have agreed to your visit to Adir but they would be foolish and careless not to worry. A young woman alone in a foreign land unused to such visitors? And particularly you, here: impetuous and idealistic, in a society intolerant of such behaviour. Why did your mother not write to me, as one beltu to another? Instead you just arrive in my city, unannounced, unexpected, unknown. That is not the way things are done here. As a student of our culture, you must surely know that when a woman of your status comes into a city, she brings a letter of introduction, and announces herself to those concerned.”

“I do know that, Amata beltu. I know that anything important is done through contacts in established relationships.”

“You know that, yet you did not think of applying it to yourself?”

“I thought of it, Amata beltu, but there is no established relationship between the beltu and my mother.”

“Just because a relationship is not acknowledged, it does not mean that it does not exist. If I, writing as one beltu to another, had asked your mother to watch over my daughter while she visited Findias, would she have refused?”

“No, of course not. She would have been surprised but also flattered by your trust, and she would have welcomed your daughter and looked after her.”

“And so would I, but without the surprise. In fact I would have expected it.”

Lea bela dropped her gaze. “We were not sure that your customs extended to us, Amata beltu, and did not want to impose.”

The beltu raised her eyebrows. “Really? And is that the only reason that you ignored me?”

Hai. The beltu went for the jugular. Her bela’s head jerked up, and she stared at the beltu.

“Amata beltu, please! I never meant it like that, I never meant to cause offence. Never!”

“Then perhaps, Lea bela, you will tell me the whole truth.”

“I will, Amata beltu, I will. I will tell you everything. The fault is mine, mine alone. My mother wished to write to you, the ladies of the court, indeed, the earl himself, said she should write, but I opposed it. I opposed it largely because I knew that in your culture, the activities of females are very circumscribed. Although I knew that you, by reputation, are as liberal minded as any woman in Findias, I feared you would not let me do my work as I wished. I feared that if you regarded me as your responsibility, you would not let me go out and do my drawings, and speak to people. I feared there would be conflict, misunderstandings, frustrations and offence. If, on the other hand, you did not know I was here, I could carry out my work quietly and unobtrusively, and if anything happened to me, it would not be your responsibility.”

“Not my responsibility! Do you really think, Lea bela, that if you, the goddaughter of Oenghus Ironrod, were abducted, raped and murdered in Adir, that the whole of Findias, indeed the whole of Aria also, would not be saying, ‘What was Amata beltu Taskarin doing, that this could happen in her city? Did she not know? Did she not care?’”

Hai! Such words: clearly if you were the beltu, you made your own rules. But she was glad she was not in Lea bela’s shoes right now. Her bela’s face was bright red.

“But … but Adiri seamen are murdered in Findias, and, I am sure, Findian seamen in Adir, and it does not … become a diplomatic incident.”

The beltu waved a hand. “They are men, worse, seamen. They venture out at night, visit taverns and brothels, and drink and fight. Such things happen and are expected to happen, with such a lifestyle. But to you, a gentle-born young woman, such things are not expected to happen. And I’m not talking about just a ‘diplomatic incident’ but the duty of one family, of one mother to another.”

Her bela gazed at the rug, then looked up at the beltu. “I am sorry, Amata beltu. You are right. I was thoughtless, selfish and foolish. I took what seemed the best path for me, without thinking what it might mean for you. What I should have done was come to see you as soon as I arrived, discussed the situation with you, and worked out a solution. No wonder you thought me arrogant and crass. I am sorry.”

“You have been frank with me, Lea bela, so I will be frank with you. I was angry at what I saw as your lack of courtesy, and determined to ignore you as I thought you had ignored me.” Then she smiled, and went on. “But when you rear up like an angry lioness protecting her young outside my front door, bringing the whole marketplace to a standstill with your roars and challenges, you become difficult to ignore. Instead of announcing yourself by letter, Lea bela, you announce yourself like Tiamat, by a tidal wave sweeping down the Bay of Larkin.”

Lea bela head was still down, but now looking at the beltu, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“Come here, child,” said the beltu, and her bela came, and knelt - hai, knelt - so that her head was on the same level as the beltu’s. The beltu took her head in both her hands, and kissed her on the forehead.

“We will consider the matter closed, Lea bela, except to say that I did know you were here. Within an hour of your disembarking from _The Wind of the Telemon_ at the west quay, I knew that a faranja had arrived, that she was young and by her demeanour was a bela, and was residing at _The Inn of the Flying Swan_.”

“Oh, I didn’t stay there. They gave me a room but then decided they were full and sent me away to a private house, Iqbal the merchant.”

“On my instructions, Lea bela. An inn is no place for a woman, particularly one young and attractive. Iqbal House is much safer, and in a better area. I also sent a manservant to follow you around, to ensure you came to no harm. A man with the purple sash of House Taskarin.”

“Oh. I did notice a man standing around from time to time, who seemed to be where I was, sketching a bathhouse or a temple, on some days, but not the same man.”

The beltu nodded. “We used a different man every day, so is not to draw your attention. But all Adir recognises the purple sash. And Iqbal advised you which temples to visit, again, on my instructions, as some temples will not tolerate your activities.”

Her bela covered her face with her hands, then looked at the beltu and said. “I feel so silly. I tried to sneak around, and it was all for nothing. You knew everything, all the time.”

“Not exactly who you were, though I had my suspicions, and these were confirmed once I had questioned Iqbal. I am sorry for deceiving you, but I could not do otherwise.”

“Oh, oh, please don’t apologise, it was all my foolishness. Well, I’ve learnt my lesson, Amata beltu, both as a person and as an ethnologist. Customs are not just to be studied, but to be followed.”

“Indeed. And another custom is that now you are acknowledged by me, you must stay in House Taskarin as my guest. It would be inappropriate for you to stay anywhere else.”

Her bela was silent for a moment, then said, “Yes. Yes, of course, Amata beltu. Thank you.”

“You may continue your visits and sketching, Lea bela. But … something else troubles you. Perhaps we can discuss it?”

“No, Amata beltu, it was an inappropriate and ungrateful thought. It is very kind of you to offer me your help and protection, especially after my thoughtlessness.”

“I’m glad that you feel it so. Perhaps you would repay that kindness by telling me of this ungrateful and inappropriate thought.”

Her bela raised her hands. “If the beltu would excuse me, I would rather not. It was an impulse and not thought through. In any society there are constraints which prevent us from acting as we should.”

“Indeed there are, Lea bela. So in this society there are constraints which prevent me from acting as you think I should. Please, enlighten me as to how I should be acting. Impulses are often true.”

“Amata beltu …” Her bela paused, then sighed. “Your mind is very acute, Amata beltu. Let me tell you before you think I am even worse than I am. I was wondering, Amata beltu, why Lea the Findian bela merits such care when Ninsha the weavergirl does not. Are we not all equal in the eyes of the Creator?”

Hai: how had she been dragged into this? She was not questioning the care she had received, no, never! It was already much, much more than she had ever expected. She hunched her shoulders and lowered her head to stare at the rug, trying to make herself small and unobtrusive. But of course the movement caught the beltu’s eye.

“Relax, child. It was a hypothetical question.” What did that mean? But she could hear the smile in the beltu’s voice, and looked up. “You are not implicated by your bela’s barbs.” The beltu turned her gaze on the bela.

“A question of moral philosophy. I can see we would have some interesting discussions, Lea bela. The answer to your question is that while in the eyes of the Creator, you, I and Ninsha are equal, in the eyes of the world in which we live, we are not. If you were to disappear, Lea bela, there will be an uproar in your world and many searching questions asked of me in mine. If I were to disappear, there would be an uproar in Adir, and many questions asked in the Land of Aria. If a weavergirl disappears, there is scarcely a ripple in the pond.”

“But that is wrong!”

“Morally, you are correct. But I’m not talking of what is right and what is wrong, only of what is.”

“It is still wrong.”

“It is still wrong, and what is Amata beltu Taskarin, a woman of power and influence, doing to set it right? That is the question behind the question. No, I am not offended, Lea bela. I find your clarity of vision invigorating, as well as challenging. Acting within the constraints of my society, as you concede is necessary, I have set up a school for girls, to teach them the skills they will need in their lives: Cookery and nutrition, child care, hygiene, household economics and accounting, reading and writing as appropriate to their needs and wishes.”

“Those are all domestic skills, Amata beltu, which keep women in their place, second-class citizens and subservient to men.”

“Indeed they are domestic, Lea bela, for those are the spheres in which women in Aria have influence, in which they can enlighten their own children, boys and girls. If a woman can do household accounts, she gains in stature in her own eyes, her children benefit from the role model as well as other ways, and she earns the respect of her husband who, nine times out of ten, cannot. If I were to instruct a clever girl like Ninsha in politics and statecraft, would she be invited to sit on the council of Adir? Or would she be shunned by all, men and women, for unwomanly aspirations and behaviour, and actively persecuted by the temple? Attitudes in our society are deeply entrenched, Lea bela. Change must come slowly, or it will not be allowed to come at all.

“Where I can bring about change, I do. I sit on the council of Adir, the only woman. Each of the council members has an assistant, and I rotate the post of my assistant through all my young relatives, male and female. Now other families are doing the same. But it is only because I am the aunt of the lugal that I am allowed to do these things. Even so I face bared teeth from conservative groups and individuals. Because I cause only ripples with my little school and my activities, they scowl and snarl, but leave me be. Should I cause waves, they would shut me down. My own family would shut me down, for the Taskarin see their purpose as promoting stability. Change as well, for the family is aware of the inequity in our society, but change must not endanger stability, for then all suffer.”

“Can anyone attend your school?”

“In theory, yes. In practice only those girls with leisure and whose families approve.”

“But that is elitist.”

“It is interesting how your dialect has evolved in parallel with your culture. We do not have such a term in our dialect, though eventually I hope we will. Like ‘evolve’, and ‘subservient.’ To your observation, or condemnation, rather,” she waved away Lea bela’s protest, “we are open to all, but the constraints of our culture are such that most of those who would like to attend, cannot. Why do we not round them up in the marketplace and herd them in, you would say? Because, Lea bela, if we nudge we are tolerated, if we push we are not.

“But there is more than one way of cooking an Agammu eel, Lea bela. I understand that your mother has set up a medical school in Findias. Now that personal contact has been established, I would like to sponsor some boys and girls to attend that school, perhaps five or six, initially.”

Hai! Involuntarily, Ninsha jerked upright.

The beltu turned to her. “Yes, Ninsha? You would like to be considered?”

Even as she spoke, Ninsha saw how foolish she was. Amata beltu, sending a tundra girl to a school in another land? To even ask would be greedy and grasping. She shook her head. “No, I thank you, beltu-mah.”

The beltu kept looking at her, her raised eyebrows a question. Hai, she must tell the truth before the beltu saw it through her. “I did not think, beltu-mah. But I was thinking of my sister, who is clever, and who dreams of going to that very school in Findias. But I know, beltu-mah, it is not possible.”

“Why is it not possible?”

“She is just a weavergirl from the tundra, beltu-mah. She reads and writes better than I do, but not well enough for such a school.”

“A weavergirl from the tundra would not be barred from applying, Ninsha. And if she is clever, and diligent, she can improve her reading and writing. And the same applies to you.”

The beltu meant it, she was sure, but Ninsha knew it could not happen. Fortune had smiled on her today, but would frown if she was grasping. “I thank you, beltu-mah, but I am happy to be maid to Lea bela.”

“But Ninsha-” said Lea bela, but the beltu raised her hand.

“Before we run, Lea bela, we must learn to walk. So let us leave it at that for now. But,” she looked at Ninsha. “I shall expect your sister’s application, Ninsha.” She looked back at Lea bela, smiled and said, “We have wandered here and there this afternoon, Lea bela, but I believe you have a request to make of me.”

“Oh. Oh, yes, I do. I would like to visit Umar, and …” She paused, and her mouth formed into a wry smile.

“And you would like permission to travel there across the Land of Aria, and you would like a letter of introduction to the lugal of Umar, that you may stay in his city, look at and sketch the buildings and squares there. And you would like me to propose to the council that this permission be granted.”

Her bela looked down. “Oh, this is so embarrassing. I’ve been so silly.” She raised her head, and looked at the beltu in the eyes. “Yes, Amata beltu, I am asking you to show me all consideration that I did not show you when I came to Adir.”

The beltu was smiling. “It is a lesson well learned. I have learned one too, about you, Lea bela. About how your impetuousness, concern for others, and frankness get you into trouble, and how those same three characteristics get you out of it again. Yes, I will put this to the council, and support it. I don’t guarantee it will be approved, but I will do what I can. You will have to appear and be questioned, but that should hold no terrors for you, from what I have seen.”

“Oh, Amata beltu, please do not think I make a habit of doing what I did today. I can tell you that I was terrified.”

The beltu smiled. “Tomorrow should be less harrowing, then. How did you think to travel to Umar? Judging from what I have seen and heard so far, I imagine you would plan to go straight across the Agammu.”

Lea bela laughed. “I think even my impulsiveness would baulk at the prospect of a hundred miles of marsh shrouded in perpetual mist. No, I thought I would make up a caravan. Hire mules or horses, and drivers, and travel by the towns and caravanserais around the Agammu.”

The beltu shook her head. “Women do not make up caravans, Lea bela, especially young, foreign women. Few muleteers would work for you, and most of those who agreed would be rogues, looking to exploit the simple faranja. So you would spend all your time fighting for respect, and not getting it. At the least you would need a sirdar, a headman, and still it would be a lot of trouble. Also, such a proposal would not find favour with the council. No, I have a better solution. A caravan is leaving for Umar the day after tomorrow, with a trustworthy sirdar. If the council agrees to your request, you shall go with it.”

Her bela spread her hands. “If you think that is best, Amata beltu. I don’t want to impose on anyone.”

“We have different cultural interpretations of that concept, Lea bela. For us it is an opportunity to help one we wish to help, and a strengthening of ties that we wish to strengthen. And, in that same context, would you take my great-niece with you for the journey? I think the experience will benefit her.”

“Of course, Amata beltu, I would love to have her with us.”

The beltu raised her eyebrows. “Thank you, though I very much doubt, Lea bela, that you will retain that sentiment after the first half day of being with her. My great-niece is at a difficult age and her mind is full of the trivialities common to many fifteen-year-old girls. I’m hoping that this journey would help mature her. But I would be grateful you would bear with her.”

“Amata beltu, after all the forbearance you have shown me, I can scarcely do less for your great-niece. She is more than welcome.”

“Thank you. Your engaging personality, Lea bela, makes it easy for me to be forbearing. You will not find that with my great-niece. I hope your powers of forbearance, as well as of endurance, are great.” She was smiling.


	7. The Atu of Qui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised 15.4.18

The beltu leant forward and her smile vanished. “One thing I wish to caution you about, Lea bela. The caravan you hope to travel with stops in Umar, but a small group goes on, up into the mountains of Elluria, to the Citadel of Qui.”

“Oh! Oh, I have heard of the Citadel of Qui.” Her bela’s voice was eager. “It sits on a mountain spur in a high valley above the lake of Qui. It is built of sandstone tinged with iron oxide, and is called the Rose of the Elluria. It has scarcely changed since it was built three centuries ago, and the culture is very traditional. I’d love to visit it. But it is a closed city: no foreigner can go there. Isn’t that so?” She looked at Ninsha, and added, “Wasn’t it the atu of Qui who made the loan to Ninsha’s father?”

“It was, so you already have an indication of the situation there. Yes, Qui is closed to foreigners. It is a military outpost. It guards the pass to the Land of Hakkan. If you think, Lea bela, that our culture is conservative, believe me, the Hakkan are three times more so. They are not a numerous people, but very warlike with a heroic culture, and as such tend to look down on those, like us, who wish to live peacefully. Countering this is their need to trade with us. So we co-exist in an uneasy relationship, and the atu of Qui forms a vital part of that relationship. Do you know, Lea bela, what the word ‘atu’ means in our dialect?”

“Gatekeeper, I think.”

“Exactly so. The Pass of Qui is the gateway to the Land of Aria, and the atu of Qui is the gatekeeper. The lugal of Hakkan would dearly like to take the Land of Aria, for Hakkan is landlocked, and this would give him the port of Adir. We Arians would be slaughtered or enslaved. Our first and primary defence depends on the capabilities of the atu of Qui in preventing invasion. Qui is held by Lirum of Family Gautian, one of the five ruling Families of Aria. Lirum is by marriage my nephew. He fulfils the function of gatekeeper admirably. In the ten years he has been atu, he has thwarted four invasion attempts as well as several more minor incursions. He is a bold, daring, and charismatic leader. He is also a tall, handsome, dashing young man.

“The reason I’m telling you about the atu, Lea bela, is to caution you. Lirum Gautian is a warrior, and like many such men of action, has deep passions and shallow thoughts. His first and foremost passion is hunting. He hunts the Hakkan from his lands, he hunts the black bear in his forests, and it is not too much of an exaggeration to say that he hunts women for his harem. Young, beautiful women. Women like you, Lea bela. Six wives already dwell in the citadel seraglio.”

“But surely, Amata beltu, by the standards of beauty of your country, I am ugly. I am too tall, I am too thin, my nose is too long, my skin is too pale, I have red hair, not black. Even my demeanour is foreign.”

Hai! Had this bela spent her life without a looking glass?

The beltu raised her eyebrows. “You are not ugly by the standards of anybody’s country, Lea bela. The foreignness of your beauty makes it more exotic. In the marketplace they call you the Findian Ninlil. Ninlil is the moon goddess. Do you know her story?”

“She was abducted and … assaulted by the god Enlil, and bore his child, the moon god, Nanna.”

“Yes. Bear her fate in mind, Lea bela. Bear in mind also that, in some religious sects in Qui, the atu is regarded as a god, and the patron god of the Citadel is Enlil. The only law in Qui, Lea bela, is the law of the atu. The rule there is harsh and unforgiving. And exploitative with little regard for right and wrong, as we have seen from Ninsha’s experience. In theory, the atu is subject to the council of Adir and the family Gautian. The Gautian family head, here in Adir, protective and eager for Gautian prestige, sees only the glory of the atu’s successes, and will harbour no criticism. The lugal, in the interests of balancing power among the Families, is reluctant to intervene.

“The second in command in Qui is Masgal, the atu’s cousin. He recently served as commander of the Watch in Adir as part of his military training, and all were impressed by his uprightness, intelligence and sense. Unfortunately the atu is jealous of his cousin’s abilities, so Masgal’s influence is limited. The only real restraint is his grandmother. Her approval or disapproval carries great weight in such a traditional society.”

“She is the matriarch of the family?”

“Yes. She has lived most of her life in Qui but travels frequently, visiting Umar and other Arian cities, as well as the land of Hakkan. The painting on the wall behind you, Lea bela, is her work.”

Lea bela turned and looked at it. “She is an accomplished artist, Amata beltu.”

“She is. She is also a clever, enlightened woman. She has suffered loss and pain: all her children, two girls and a boy, are dead, from war or disease, but this has made her wise rather than bitter. I knew her once, for she used to visit Adir. I liked her greatly.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, our ways have since parted. She and the Gautian family head, here in Adir, do not get on, so she has not come to Adir for many, many years. We corresponded for a while, but then she warned me that her letters were being tampered with, and told me to expect no more. That was a great sorrow to me, besides being a misfortune, for she wrote with wit and verve. So I have little recent knowledge of her attitudes. Passing merchants report that she is loved and does much good in Qui, and that she too does not get on with the atu. But they also report that she is capricious, so is as likely to approve as disapprove of what he does.

“The third power in Qui, Lea bela, is the sukkal, Urbiku, high priest of the temple of Enlil. He is also the shangamahhu, the highest ranked priest in the whole of Aria. He is an archconservative. He believes that Aria has already become too liberal. In particular he abhors the influence of Findian culture. I mention him, Lea bela, because you have already met him. It was the sukkal of Qui who interfered on your behalf today in the marketplace. Such behaviour is very much out of character for such a man. He returns to Qui with your caravan, Lea bela, and you must be wary of him. He is not, and will never be, your friend. Everything you stand for, he opposes with every fibre of his being. They call him, Lea bela, the scorpion, for he stands quiet and unseen until the moment to strike.

“I hope I have impressed on you, Lea bela, that Qui is a very dangerous place. If, by some mischance, you got in, you would never be allowed to leave. My influence and protection, Lea bela, extends to Umar. It does not extend to the Citadel of Qui. On no account must you go beyond Umar. Will you give me your word?”

“Of course, Amata beltu. If you feel I should not go beyond Umar, I will not. I give you my word.”

The beltu looked at her, then gave a nod. “Good. Now, Lea bela, I have a little more to say to Ninsha. You are welcome to stay and hear it, if you wish. I must warn you that my words will be frank.”

Her bela smiled. “I have already learned, Amata beltu, that most of what you say is frank, but always to a purpose, and that purpose is to the good of those about or to whom you speak.”

The beltu smiled back. “I hope you continue to think that, Lea bela.” Then she turned to Ninsha. “You said, child, that you have the skills of weaving the cloth, herding the ’bou, a little reading, writing and arithmetic, and nothing else. Those are skills of the hand, and those are what earn your bread. More vital, Ninsha, are the skills of the mind, for they are what determine what path you take. Your life has been hard, Ninsha, but from what I can hear, and see, and feel, you have learned the lessons that life has taught you, well. You showed enterprise in learning to read and write. You looked after yourself on the tundra, you looked after yourself and your sister here in Adir. You have learned to judge and balance risk, to make decisions when all options look bad, and not to turn away, overwhelmed, disheartened, too frightened to move.”

Hai. How did the beltu know that sometimes she had felt overwhelmed, disheartened, too frightened to move?

“We all experience those feelings, Ninsha, though few with the same justification as you. That you have shown courage and judged well, I know because otherwise you would not be standing here in front of me. Even these last few days shows that: to apply to Lea bela meant leaving your work, taking a great risk, but to not take this opportunity would have been even more dangerous. Though your success was fortuitous, still you did what you could.

“I speak of this, Ninsha, because I want you to use those skills in helping and advising your bela. Her grasp of our culture is from a book, but yours is from your flesh and bone. In Lea bela’s culture, a question means what it says, no more and no less. In the land of Aria, you look for the question behind the question behind the question asked. You look at the asker, and consider who he is, why he is asking, who he is asking for, all apart from what he is asking. Your bela is a clever, educated woman, but in the ways of our land, she is younger than you. There is much she will not understand and will need your guidance. Can I rely on you, Ninsha, to help her?”

Ninsha bowed her head. “The bursuma-mah does not need to ask. The bela-mah has saved me from Ishtar. How could I do less than serve her with all my heart and all my skills?”

“Good. Not that I think your tundra survival skills will be needed, Ninsha, at least I sincerely hope not. But assessing risk in Adir and, assuming permission is granted to travel, in the towns on the Umar trail, Carcamesh, Dagal, and the caravanserais. Particularly in Umar, which is still very conservative. My cousin the lugal is an old man, Lea bela, though still alert and active, when last I saw him. I shall ask him to assign you a guard, but still Ninsha must be alert. I think you will find, Ninsha, that your bela repays respect, trust and loyalty with respect, trust and loyalty. If you have questions on the practical aspects of being a lady’s maid, you may ask Ibba.”

Not if she could avoid it. “Yes, bursuma-mah.”

The beltu glanced at her, then said, “Yes, perhaps I should speak to my housekeeper, to choose someone better. My great-niece’s maid, Lea bela, is not one to rely on except for the most frivolous needs.”

Involuntarily, Ninsha gave a shake of her head, and the beltu added, “I think it is Ninsha’s intention, Lea bela, that you will not have to rely on Ibba for any need at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure I won’t,” said her bela. “I’m quite capable of doing everything myself.”

“Indeed, Lea bela,” said the beltu, “but the point of having a maid is that you don’t have to spend your time doing those things which she can do for you. I cannot think Ninsha would enjoy being idle, particularly if you are doing what she thinks she should be doing. Remember that it is demoralising to be deprived of one’s function.”

“Oh, I would not do that. Quite the opposite, for I intend to give her another, additional function, that of scholar. She will be both lady’s maid and scholar. Idleness, I assure you, will not be a problem. You said, Ninsha, that you would like to improve your reading and writing skills, and that is what we shall do. It would be my pleasure, Amata beltu, to instruct your great-niece and her maid as well, at whatever level is appropriate to them individually.”

“Indeed? A little school while you travel?”

“Yes, Amata beltu, for I understand that one leaves at or before dawn, and reaches the serai in the early afternoon. That will leave ample time for an hour or two of instruction.”

“It is kind of you, Lea bela, to make this offer. I believe that exposure to the wider world of ideas would be very beneficial for my great-niece. However, I think it is unlikely she will see it so, and I am reluctant to impose a truculent and sulky adolescent on your time and patience, not to speak of her maid.”

“Well, Amata beltu, I’m willing to try it. Some sulkiness and truculence I can deal with, but I would suggest that if she really does not want to attend, we should not force her. Ninsha, would you like to receive instruction?”

“Oh yes, bela, very much.”

“Good. That is what we will do then. I don’t know how far we will get on a ten-day journey to Umar, a short stay there, and a ten-day journey back, but we’ll do as much as we can. Which brings me to another point, Amata beltu. Ninsha’s younger sister.”

What now? Gazia had been at the forefront of her mind, but she had not known what to do.

“From what I have seen and heard of her stepfather, I’m reluctant to leave the child in his care. But I can’t very well take two maids with me. Would there be a safe place where she could stay, Amata beltu? At my expense, of course.”

The beltu turned to Ninsha. “What is your feeling on this, Ninsha? Do you want to get Gazia away from your stepfather?”

Hai. The beltu remembered her name: that was a good sign. “If you please, bursuma-mah, I do, very much. He is a bad man and to leave my sister there with him alone would worry me greatly. Also his lodging, where we live in the attic, is west of the bridge, beyond Ishtar even, and my sister would be walking there morning and evening, to and from the weaver shop. It is not safe, bursuma-mah, for a thirteen-year-old girl.”

“No, indeed,” said her bela, but the beltu raised her hand, and went on.

“You were saying, Ninsha, that Gazia’s fingers are still small, and she can tie the knots in silk rugs. How would it be if she were to come and live here, and weave for me, and repair my rugs?”

“It would be more than wonderful, bursuma-mah. It would be safety and security beyond our dreams but… who would pay? The hammerman has always taken all our earnings, and we have nothing with which to pay him for my sister’s … freedom.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, Ninsha,” said her bela. “I will take care of it.”

“Not at six silver shekels a time, Lea bela,” said the beltu, smiling. “You upset market rates in Adir with your impetuous extravagance. No, I shall instruct our clerk to settle the matter with the weavermaster and the hammerman. And we can arrange her work so that she may attend my school as well.” She waved away Ninsha’s tearful thanks. “My rugs have long needed expert attention, Ninsha. Now perhaps, Lea bela, you can go to your lodgings with a maid and a manservant, and bring back your belongings, and you, Ninsha, may go with the clerk and a guard to the weaver shop and your attic room beyond the Ishtar quarter, and collect your sister and your belongings.”

She began pushing herself to her feet, and immediately the bela sprang forward to help her. Ninsha picked up the beltu’s walking stick, but before she could give it to her, Lea bela took both the beltu’s hands in hers.

“Amata beltu, I already have a wonderful mother, but if I had not, I would be very happy to be ‘called names much worse than foolish, headstrong girl,’ if that meant I was the daughter of such a wise and moral woman.”

The beltu took her by the shoulders, and kissed her on both cheeks. “Thank you, child, and I would be proud to have a daughter like you. May I, Lea bela, take the liberty of calling you ‘daughter’?”

“I would be honoured, Amata beltu, or may I say, Amata ama.”

 


	8. The Council of Adir

“I have bad news, Lea daughter,” said Amata beltu. They were in her sitting room, waiting to be summoned to the council chamber. “I had hoped that the attending council members would be sympathetic to your request, and if those on the rota were attending, they would be. Unfortunately the people’s representatives, who can normally be counted on to approve Taskarin proposals, have been replaced by the commander, the warden, of Adir’s watch and the sukkal of Adir. This is because the matter to be discussed has religious and security implications, and they have the right to attend under those circumstances.

“The temple opposes anything and everything to do with Findias, and so the sukkal will vote against the proposal. The warden, Hara Urbadian, nephew of the Urbadian family head, is a reactionary young man and will also vote against. The other full members attending will be the lugal, the heads of families Urbadian and Gautian, and me. Namtar Gautian is an archconservative, and will certainly vote against. Essar Urbadian is a traditionalist, disliking change, wary of the influence of Findias. He fought in the Findian wars. He will probably vote against. However, he is persuadable, and he has surprised me in the past. He alone of all the Families has followed the Taskarin example of rotating the role of adviser among his younger relatives, even women. His current adviser is his granddaughter Essara Urbadian, a young woman of about your age, Lea daughter, and also principled and bright. However even with his vote we would still only have only three in favour, and three against. Still, we have come this far: let us hazard the trial.”

 

Amata beltu was right. Even before she had even finished making the proposal, the opinions of the members were written on their faces. The warden, the Gautian lord and the Urbadian lord were all scowling. Only the sukkal’s face was blank, but when did a sukkal ever betray anything? The only sympathetic faces, other than the lugal and Amata beltu, was that of the Urbadian lord’s adviser, his granddaughter.

Now her bela sat in the witness chair, foreign in every visible feature. Her striking looks would bring her few friends here, even though all the council members except Amata beltu were men. But surely her openness and enthusiasm would be in her favour and win them over?

“We have heard the proposal, Lea bela,” said the lugal. “Perhaps you would tell us in your own words why you wish to visit the city of Umar.”

“Thank you for the opportunity, lugal-en. My reason is a simple, straightforward one. I am a scholar and wish to deepen and widen my knowledge of the history of Aria by examining its ancient buildings and writings.”

“And why do you wish to do that?” the Urbadian lord.

“Urbadian-en, is not knowledge worth seeking for its own sake?”

“No, it is not. One seeks only for a purpose, which may be to benefit oneself or others. Which is yours?”

“Urbadian-en, I apologise. My answer was facile. It is true that seeking knowledge for its own sake, out of intellectual curiosity, love of learning, or for the greater understanding of the world around us or for whatever reason, is to seek it to benefit oneself. As a teacher, I seek also to benefit those I teach. So, I would answer your question by saying that I wish to benefit myself by extending my knowledge of a subject which I find fascinating, and also, by relating my own experiences and findings, to deepen both knowledge and interest of my students in the subject.”

“Your experiences. How you travelled through this primitive land by wagon, on unmade roads, the deprivation you experienced at the serais, the rude washing facilities; the unmentionable privies; the bare boarded beds with straw mattresses, the unhygienic food, cooked over open fires. You will regale your students with tales of the primitive peoples of Aria.”

“Urbadian-en, I will regale them with tales of an exotic land, with a culture dating back many hundreds of years, where ancient buildings and inscriptions show the emergence of writing, bringing with it law, order, history, indeed, everything. I will be telling them how the culture of an ancient land developed over the centuries, how men and women practice the skills and crafts learnt from their forefathers. I will not, Urbadian-en, be telling them of bumpy roads, straw mattresses and primitive sanitation because they already know all about that. They have it at home, on their family farms. As to cooking over open fires, they know all about that too, for we cook that way, and by rota, on our field trips. They know all about smoke in the eyes, charcoal in the soup, singed hair and burnt and scalded fingers.” and she smiled at him.

He did not smile back, but the scowl had gone. Behind him, his granddaughter was smiling at Lea bela. Hai, if she could just could persuade the old man …

“How does this benefit us, girl?” said the Gautian lord. Hai, that earned him a glare from Amata beltu, as well as disapproving looks from the lugal and the Urbadian lord.

Lea bela ignored it. “Gautian-en, it benefits Aria in that my students include men and women from the ruling families of Findias, who will, in their turn, become members of the council of Findias. Most of them already know the debt that Findias has to the land of Aria, but few know the details. With a deeper knowledge comes respect and affection.”

“Affection, ha!” The warden of the watch, lounging back in his chair, gave a loud laugh. “What a pack of lies. Isn’t it obvious? The Findian send a spy, a young woman to lull our suspicions, to travel through our land, to spy out and see what we have in terms of defences, assessing our farmlands, our forests, everything of value that we have. Then she will report back to the earl of Findias so he can prepare invasion plans. They think a pretty face will blind us to the obvious purpose. Do you think we are fools? Go back to your own land, girl, marry someone and have babies. That is your function, not spying.” Hai, how could this man be Arian? His accent was thick Hakkan, and so were his attitudes.

Lea bela did not reply, just gave him a look, and turned to face the lugal.

“Enough!” The Urbadian lord was on his feet, glaring at the warden. “My nephew shames the House of Urbad. This young woman is a bela and a visitor to our land, and you speak so to her? Show respect! Apologise, now!”

The young man’s face had gone red. He stood and bowed. “I apologise to the lady Lea if my words caused offence.”

“Of course they caused offence, boy. You described her in derogatory terms and insulted her. Who are you to call her ‘girl’ in such a way? You are not in Hakkan now. Here we treat women with dignity and respect. And why do you think the earl needs to send a spy? You think there are no maps showing the resources of Aria, the forests, fisheries, farmlands, orchards? And if the earl wants current information all he needs do is interrogate Adiri merchants and anyway, why would he bother? If he wants Aria he can take it between breakfast and dinner, with one hand.” He turned to Lea bela. “This does not mean I am supporting you, young lady.”

She bowed her head. “I thank you nonetheless, Urbadian-en.” Hai, how could a man resist such gentle, feminine mannerisms.

The Urbadian lord was trying. “You talk of respect, Lea bela. Do not men mock us in the marketplace, call a donkey an Arian, regard us as primitive and amusing?”

“Urbadian-en, ignorant and crass people are everywhere. Do not men mock Findians in the marketplace here? Do they not effeminize our speech and gestures, prance in an affected way, say that men lie with men? That is the nature of such people. They are not men of measured thought, and mock what they do not understand. But such men are seldom the decision-makers. Those who attend the centres of learning are, and the more they know, the more they respect.”

“So now our marketplace men are ignorant and crass?” said the warden. “And you call that respect?”

“I call it human nature, gardu-mah. In all societies, some men are ignorant and crass, and others are not. Women, too.”

“Women, yes. You teach women, you say.” The Gautian lord again, but this time he did not call her ‘girl.’

Lea bela’s chin lifted. “We do, Gautian-en. We make no distinction.”

“To what end? Do not the women become wives and mothers? What is the point of educating them?”

“Because they wish to learn, and we wish to encourage self-development. Yes, it is true that most women do become wives and mothers, though not all. That they are educated means that when a child comes home from school and calls an Arian a donkey, his mother can point out that the people of Aria were living in stone houses, and reading and writing when his own ancestors were living in mud huts and were illiterate. So an educated mother can prevent ignorance and bigotry from taking seed. We have a saying in Findias, Gautian-en, that when you educate a man you educate one man, but when you educate a woman you educate a generation. Like all sayings it oversimplifies, but we believe an educated mother means enlightened children.”

Behind the Urbadian lord, his granddaughter was smiling and nodding at Lea bela.

“What rubbish,” said the warden. “What decadent, feminised, Findian hogswill. I never saw my mother for twenty years, and I am as enlightened as the next man.”

Lea bela looked at him, no expression on her face.

He glared at her and said, “Well?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I couldn’t possibly comment, gardu-mah.”

Now Essara bela was grinning. Clearly no love was lost between her and her kinsman.

“You speak eloquently and persuasively, young lady,” said the Urbadian lord. “However there are other factors to be considered, chief of which is your safety and responsibility for it. As I understand it, your behaviour in Adir so far has not been such as to inspire confidence in your sense of caution.”

“She has no sense at all,” said the warden.

Lea bela ignored him, but his uncle glared at him. “Urbadian-en, I have given my word to Amata beltu that I will conduct myself with discretion and caution. I respect your culture, and have no wish to go against your traditions and customs. The occasion to which you refer was unusual, and such that I could not stand by. I can tell you, sir, that it was out of character for me to act so, and that I was terrified. I will not willingly undergo such an experience again.”

“Perhaps out of character to challenge a man who could crush you with one hand, and to address a crowd in the marketplace, but out of character to rush in to rescue a young girl?”

She was silent.

The watch commander leant forward, looking at the lugal “She says she respects our customs and traditions, yet her behaviour says otherwise. Her behaviour in the marketplace was outrageous and totally immodest. She addressed men directly, openly, challengingly. She, a woman and a foreigner. And for what? A servant girl! What sort respect is that?”

“The sort of respect,” said Amata beltu, “that puts the well-being of a vulnerable child above that of turning one’s back on brutality and violence and exploitation.”

The warden ignored her, saying, “I would ship her back to Findias immediately.”

“Your views are apparent, warden,” said the lugal. He looked around. “We have explored the most relevant aspects of this, and have other matters to deal with this morning. Sukkal-mah, do you have any questions?”

Every time Ninsha had glanced at the sukkal, he had been looking at Lea bela. That, she had already noticed, was not unusual when men were around her bela. But a sukkal was not as other men, and his face was as expressionless as only a sukkal’s could be. Now, for the first time, he spoke. “I have none, lugal-en.” A bad sign, but expected. The temple would never approve such an application.

“Then let us vote on this,” and the lugal, immediately followed by Amata beltu, put a white stick forward.

The Gautian lord and the warden, scowling, each put forward a red stick.

Two for and two against.

The Urbadian lord, looking at Lea bela, put a white stick forward. Amata beltu had been right: he was persuadable, and Lea bela had done it.

Three for and two against.

But the sukkal would vote against, which would give equal voting, and that meant no approval.

What now? Her bela could not go to Umar. Would she just take ship back to Findias? If she did, what would happen to Ninsha? Lea bela would not want a maid in Findias. Even if she did, by Arian law, an Arian could not leave Aria without permission of the council. Of course, many did, but they did not ask, just went, and because they were common people of no account, the council did not care. But for her, Ninsha, it would be different, for she was attached to a prominent figure.

Would Amata beltu take into her household? On the one hand, that would be wonderful, on the other - a lump rose in her throat and tears pickled in her eyes.- she would lose Lea bela. Already she had a strong affection for this impulsive, loving, clever Findian lady.

Now the sukkal was voting, the colour of the stick hidden in his hand as he placed it. He drew his hand back. White? How could that be? But yes! He had voted for! They were going to Umar! Quickly she wiped away the tears: she did not want to be noticed. But her heart was singing. She was staying with Lea bela. In a month it would have to be decided again, what happened to her, her and Gazia, but a month was an eternity compared with few days. Anything could happen in the month.


	9. The guzgal in the marketplace

How quickly it had happened! When she had woken just two mornings ago, she had been facing a future of, at best, a child bride to some unknown man, at worst, an acolyte of Ishtar on the streets. In a few years, if she survived that long, her sister would be joining her in that fate. By the evening of the same day, their prospects had leapt from the gutter to the sky. They were known to the beltu of Adir, which alone was a guarantee of a better future. She and Gazia were out of the clutches of the hammerman, and legally too, for she had seen him make his mark on the paper and accept the money. One shekel, and when the hammerman had protested, the scribe had asked him about his tax payments. The hammerman had grabbed the paper and made his cross.

Greatest of all, Ninsha was now the maid of the faranj bela and going with her to Umar, and Gazia was safe in the house of Amata beltu.

She had tried to give Jawa a gift, but the girl had been crying, and said that seeing her free of Ishtar was gift enough. Hai, Jawa was foolish sometimes, but had a good heart. Anba had sat quiet, her head down and not meeting Ninsha’s eyes, so that Ninsha knew it was she who had told the hammerman where she was to be found. But if she hadn’t … So Ninsha had given her a bangle, but not one of Aleisha’s, for giving a possession of one who had been murdered to another who had committed an act of betrayal: who could say how the Fates would view that? Such a gift might act as a curse rather than a blessing. But… by the blessings of those same capricious Fates, she and her sister were out of the darkness and in the sunlight.

“Ninsha, how much rice do you eat?”

And if she didn’t stop daydreaming and pay attention to her bela, she’d be back there. They were in the marketplace to buy provisions for the journey to Umar. She was sure the beltu’s sirdar would be catering for them, but her bela had insisted.

“A handful of a day, bela?” The truth was, as much as she could get, and it had never been enough since they had come to Adir. But those days were past.

“A handful? About a hundred grams? That’s not very much. We’ll have to feed you up, Ninsha. Let’s say two handfuls each, which will give us four hundred grams. The journey is ten days, but let’s add twenty percent in case it takes longer. That gives us twelve days. So in total that would give us about five kilograms.”

Her bela had worked out that in her head? Ninsha could, because she had had to count the ‘bou, but none of the girls in the weaver shop had been able to do anything but simple counting. Had her bela’s father been a trader? Or a merchant in his furred robes and quayside warehouses, rather, for belas did not have fathers who were simple traders.

But now her bela had stopped at a foodstuff’s stall, the first one she had come to, without even looking at the others first. And this trader was a guzgal, she could see that at a glance. He’d make all the right noises, yes, but look at his face, shifty; his eyes, bold; his clothes gaudy but dirty; his manner obsequious but with insolence round the edges.

Hai, her bela needed looking after, the beltu was right. But… dare she? Her bela hadn’t asked for help.

“I’d like five kilos of your best rice, please.”

“Best rice, bela-mah? That costs fifteen mila a kilo.” Hai, three times the usual price. Of course, faranji always paid more, but three times?

The trader turned and ladled rice from a sack behind him into a cloth bag, and put it on the scale.

“May I see the rice?”

“Of course, bela-mah, but I just need to top it up,” and he turned, scooped up more rice, filled the bag and held it out for her bela’s to see.

“Thank you, that looks fine.”

Ninsha shifted her feet. Hadn’t her bela seen? He’d filled it up from a different bag.

“And now, five kilos of dates.”

Five? That would do for double the journey.

“Thirty mila a kilo, bela-mah, for best dates. Twenty for second-class dates.”

“Oh, your best dates, please. Not too dehydrated.”

What did that mean? Ninsha doubted that the trader knew, but she also doubted that it would have made any difference to what they got. At three times Adiri price again. She glared at the trader, but he just winked back at her. Making her part of the conspiracy, helping cheat her bela? She’d have to come back later to get proper food, for she was sure most of it was ‘worst’, not ‘best’. Around them people stopped to watch.

“Three kilos of your best figs, please.”

“Ah, the bela has come to the right trader for figs, bela-mah. My figs come from my cousin and the Garden of Umar, and this is the best week to buy them. He brings them for me specially. They are so delicious that you will want more and more. I would recommend five kilos, bela-mah, best figs at seventy mila a kilo.”

What lies. The fig orchards of Umar were owned by the lugal, and his workers picked and packed them, his wagons brought them to Adir ‘specially’ for all the traders in the marketplace.

Her bela turned to her. “Do you think we can eat five kilos of figs, Ninsha?”

“No, bela. Three is more than enough.” The trader glared at her, and she shook her head at him.

“Three kilos then, please. And a quarter of a kilo of salt.”

He weighed out the figs and the salt, then took his abacus from under the counter, rattled the beads back and forth, and said, “Five hundred mila, bela-mah.”

“Really? The salt is seventy-five mila? Two hundred and twenty-five mila a kilo?”

“It is best salt, bela-mah, from the shores of the Agammu beyond Umar.”

“Really? Does that sound right, Ninsha?”

“No, bela. There are no salt pans on the Agammu beyond Umar, only the caribou calving grounds. The Agammu salt pans are near the Namgata Hills, three days this side of Umar, and there are only two qualities sold in the marketplace, one for livestock, one for people. Salt is salt, fifteen mila a quarter kilo.” A woman in the crowd tittered, and she heard a murmured, “Akadug, unu.” The trader scowled at her, and she scowled back.

“Fifteen mila, trader? Four hundred and forty mila total? Is that all right?”

“Ah, bela-mah, it is below cost for me. But because you bought best quality figs and rice and dates, I give you the salt for nothing. And the food for four hundred twenty mila. A deal, bela-mah?”

“Thank you, trader but I don’t want you to lose profit because of me. Four hundred and forty is fine. All right?” She counted out the coins and put them on the counter.

All right? He had made almost three times the normal profit! And, no doubt, given them poor quality and short weight, too.

“It is good, bela-mah. And we seal the deal in the old way, bela-mah,” and he spat on the palm of his hand and held it out to her.

Her bela looked surprised, but then lifted the palm of her hand to her mouth. Around them, the women murmured.

Hai, no, this was too much. Taking extra profit from a rich faranja was one thing, but this was personal. Her bela’s spit in this rogue’s hand? That she would not stand for. This was a … a violation!

She grabbed her bela’s arm and pulled it down. “No, bela, you must not.”

Voices in the crowd murmured approval.

She stepped in front of her bela. In the Adiri dialect, she said “You guzgal. She is afifah, and you, you take her spit? From her own mouth? And she does not understand? Pervert!”

A male voice murmured behind her, and she spun round to face him. “Yes? Yes? She does not understand, no, but she goes back to Findias, and she tells them and they understand, oh yes, they understand, and they say: Adir? Oh yes, we know how they treat innocent women there; in Adir the gazelle is treated like the goat.”

“Afifah?” Another man called out. “Look at her. Too tall, she wears woman’s clothes but strides like a man. She walks head up, looking around her, instead of eyes downcast like a proper woman. Afifah?” and he spat on the ground.

“Oh man of the moon, is your brain made of cheese? Do the women harvesting the figs in the groves of Umar pitter-patter around like the women in the lugal’s seraglio? Do they keep their eyes modestly on the ground when they pick the oranges from the trees? She strides and she looks because she is working, as you are not, working with her mind, as you cannot. And yes, she is afifah. Did she argue when the luzuha cheated her?”

“Who are you calling a thief?” snarled the trader. “Who says I cheated her? Tundra girl, I’ll have you whipped.”

“Me, whipped?” She turned to face the crowd. “Who is the one selling rubbish food to the faranj bela at prices as high as the Wall of Iribal?”

Near her, a young man said, “Rubbish food?”

“Here,” she said, “give me your knife,” and she held out her hand.

Grinning, he opened a clasp knife and put it on her palm.

She stepped up to the counter, holding the blade ready.

“Oh no, you don’t,” said the trader, and grabbed her wrist.

“Let her go, trader,” said her bela, “let her go this moment! Ninsha, leave it. Whatever it is, leave it.”

The trader stepped up to her bela, into her space, threatening, as the hammerman had done. Ninsha jerked her hand free and shoved him in the chest, hard, stepping in front of her bela as she did so. “Hai, luzuha, back, back!” The trader raised a clenched fist, but then a murmur in the crowd made them look round.

A man had stepped into their circle, an old man, wearing a purple sash. He said nothing, just looked at the trader.

The trader stepped back behind the counter, and immediately Ninsha sprang forward and slashed across the bottom of the rice bag. Out spilled the grains, many of them grey, with tips black with decay.

The men around murmured, and an old woman cackled, “Best rice!”

Her bela stared at the rice, then glancing at the trader, said, “We’ll leave it. Come, Ninsha.”

Ninsha took her hand and held her fast. “Please to wait, bela.” She turned to the trader. “The bela wants to go, luzuha. Without the food.” She pointed to the cloth bags standing on the counter. “Without the money.” She pointed to the pile of coins. “Back to House Taskarin, where she is the guest of the beltu. Is this what you want, luzuha?”

The scowl vanished as if it had been wiped off with a cloth. “Mistake, bela-mah, mistake! Wrong packages, bela-mah, please to wait while I get the right packages, bela-mah.” He bowed low, swept the bad rice onto the ground, pushed the figs and dates to one side, and leant across to a second row of sacks, his scoop in his hand.

“In front of us, every scoop,” said Ninsha. “Best rice, best dates, best figs.” She put her hands on her hips and planted herself in front of the counter.

Not meeting her eyes, the trader held out every scoopful for her inspection before putting it into the bag. When he had finished, and detailed the boy to carry the bags, she said, “You have forgotten the change.” She pointed to the money, which he had not yet touched.

He raised his head and looked at her. “How much change?”

“Change from best rice, best dates, best figs at Adiri prices. Two hundred fifty mila.” He shut his eyes for a moment, then silently counted out the money and offered it to her bela, but Ninsha held out her hand. “Here!” He must not touch her bela’s hand. Then she handed it to her bela.

As they walked back, the boy behind, her bela said, “What was all that about, Ninsha?”

“He was cheating you, bela.”

“I gathered that. And you made him stop. But also you stopped me from sealing the bargain. Isn’t that traditional?”

How could she be so trusting! “Between two men of equal standing, bela, yes. Between a young woman and a man, no, it is not done. Between a bela and a trader, it is cheek beyond measure that he should even try. The beltu would take his licence.”

“We will not tell her, Ninsha. We will not destroy a man’s livelihood for something so insignificant.”

“Yes, bela.” No matter if they told the beltu or not, she would hear of his insolence from many others. But the beltu might decide he had already paid enough, by being humiliated by a girl. It would be long before he could live that down, in the coffee shops and playing mah-mah with the men.

“And what does ‘afifah’ mean, Ninsha?”

Ninsha glanced around. The boy and the man were at the bottom of the steps, waiting. “It means, bela,” she said in a low voice, “that you are … proper.”

“In what way, proper?”

“In your behaviour, bela.” Her bela looked at her with a quizzical frown, and Ninsha said, “Chaste, modest, bela.”

“Oh. Oh dear, I’m not sure that I am, in your culture.”

“Of course you are, Lea bela. Anyone with eyes can see that, in any culture.”


	10. Dagal Serai, five days out from Adir

“Tsst!”

It was only Amunita bela, so Ninsha ignored her. Complaining again, probably. Complaining was what the beltu’s great-niece did best.

From the first day she had complained. About the stupid wagon they travelled in, the way it clattered over the stupid cobbles in the marketplace, the way it swayed and jolted when it crossed the stupid ruts and fell in the stupid potholes of the Umar trail, the way the stupid driver cracked his whip at the stupid mules. But most of all she complained about how she had never wanted to come on this stupid journey in the first place. Though never loud enough for Lea bela to hear.

Then, at the first serai, when they were sitting on their mats during the first lesson, Amunita’s muttered complaints had erupted into a minor explosion. A wandering chicken did a dropping on the corner of her mat. Amunita’s screech had sent the chicken off in a panicked flurry of squawks and feathers, Ibba went running for a clean mat, and Lea bela, raising her eyebrows at the fuss, had said the visiting chicken had left her calling card. Amunita bela was not amused.

Afterwards she complained about how undignified it was to be sitting there on their mats in the open where everyone could watch them and listen to the lesson. When Ninsha had reminded her that Lea bela had said that that was the point, that she wanted to encourage anyone who could, to join the lesson, Amunita had rounded on her and told her to hold her tongue, she was just a stupid servant girl, and that Lea bela was silly to think anyone would.

Ninsha had to agree with her. No boy would ever join a class of girls, no commoner girl would ever join a class with a bela like Amunita in it, but above all, no parent would ever allow their child to join a class run by an exotic foreigner. Witches came in all shapes and sizes, and it was just not possible that a woman who looked like Lea bela would be offering to teach their children without some dark hidden purpose. Beyond any doubt she was after their souls.

 

Today’s lesson had been geography, and Lea bela had shown them a map, a map showing the whole of the Land of Aria. Hai, it was wonderful. Ninsha had always known the Agammu was big, for it took a wagon caravan ten days to go around it, from Adir to Umar. But only now did she realise just how big: the marshes filled western Aria, stretching from Umar at the foot of the mountains of Elluria in the north, for a hundred miles to Adir at the Bay of Larkin in the south, from the Wall of Iribal in the west for fifty miles to the wagon trail on the edge of the Desert of Aria in the east. She had been to so many places in her short life, the spring grazing grounds in the east, the high summer plateau with its perpetual midges, the Iribal with its great Finger poking out into the marshes: but now, seeing Aria shown on one large sheet of paper, all the separate bits she had seen fell into place, north, south, east and west.

Hai, there was the citadel of Qui high in the Elluria Mountains, its lake and the pass to Hakkan up which they had come on that fateful journey. Even the hills and valleys were shown clearly, if one knew how to read the little curvy lines. Contours, Lea bela had called them. Most wonderful of all, she was able to see the land she had crisscrossed with her family shown there on the paper, the trails they had followed shown by lines of little dots. There, to the east, was the high sheltered valley where they usually overwintered; there, to the north west were the calving grounds near Umar. Not all the paths were shown: the main trail from Umar to the Gap of Qui, zig-zagging across the amphitheatre of the Dingir was there, but the little herder path down to the cliffs to the west was not shown. So the tundra people knew more than the mapmakers. And the mapmakers showed nothing of the Agammu except the outline of the edge and the Teeth of the Annunaki: even they couldn’t see through the everlasting mist to the marsh below. Not that it made any difference - the abode of demons in the land of perpetual mist: who would want to go there?

Just as wonderful was the lode-iron, the compass, Lea bela had called it. Ninsha remembered her father had spoken of the lode-iron, marvelling that it pointed north always, day and night, no matter what the weather. With such a device, he said, he could find his way across the Agammu on the winter ice. Except of course, as ama had reminded him, for the demons living there.

Ibba had taken one look at the needle moving of its own accord, given a shriek and sprang back. It was possessed by a demon, she said, otherwise how could it move? Lea bela explained again about the magnetic field, but Ibba made a warding sign with her fingers. If she couldn’t see it and couldn’t feel it, it was supernatural, and who could say whence it came? Amunita had only touched it because Ninsha had picked it up, and she wouldn’t be outdone by a servant, especially Lea bela’s maid. But she had paid no attention while Lea bela had explained how it was used.

So when it had come to the practical exercise that Lea bela always set them, this time plotting and writing down the bearings of the route to Umar, Amunita could not do it, understanding neither map nor compass. Ibba, of course, did not even try. Even if she had been able to, outdoing her mistress was not to be thought of.

This was normal. It was only her great-aunt’s insistence that kept Amunita at Lea bela’s lessons at all, and only Amunita’s demands that kept Ibba there. If she had to suffer, her maid was going to suffer too. Though it was not all suffering, for the sukkal had sent the lieutenant commanding his escort to stand by while Lea bela’s school was sitting, to ensure no one troubled them. The lieutenant was a boy from one of the Families, Ishimud Gautian, eighteen years old, tall and good-looking, and Amunita was head over heels moon calf about him. Ishimud felt the same way but, unfortunately, about Lea bela, not Amunita bela. He would gaze at her, but turn away, blushing, should she catch his eye. This did not make Amunita bela like Lea bela more.

Amunita bela did not like Lea bela, and for many reasons: Lea bela was tall, and Amunita bela was short; Lea bela was slim, and Amunita bela was podgy; Lea bela was fair and Amunita bela was sallow; Lea bela had a lovely smile, and green eyes, and a lilting voice, and a way of lifting her chin just so, and - well, everything about Lea bela was wrong, and insulting to the beltu’s great-niece. How dare she be like that!

So Ninsha had to listen to a flow of disparaging comments about her mistress, relayed in a low, furious tone when Lea bela was there, and a loud, furious tone when she was not. Ibba emphasised her mistress’s opinion by pinching Ninsha until Ninsha had pointed out a scorpion on the serai wall, and mentioned how they liked warm places. Like beds. Hai, the beltu would have been proud of her. After that Ibba confined herself to glaring. Ishimud’s foolishness was just another stone on the cairn of dislike, although a big one. And Lea bela sailed above it all, like a stately ship on choppy waters. She pretended not to notice Ishimud’s blushes; hai, she must have had boys mooncalf over her since she was twelve years old. She ignored Amunita bela’s pointed looks, disdaining to respond to an adolescent’s silly vapours. Of course, this had the effect of making Amunita bela dislike Lea bela even more.

 

“Tsst!” More insistent this time.

Ninsha looked up. Amunita bela, seated on her high cushion, was glaring at her, but as soon as she caught her eye, switched her gaze to stare across the serai. Ninsha followed the direction, saw, and quickly dropped her gaze. The sukkal was walking across the paving towards them. Why?

 

They’d seen him the morning they had left Adir, in all the hustle and bustle: men hurrying to and fro, with last minute messages or goods to be loaded; the wagoners yelling and cursing each other and their mules as they harnessed them to the loaded wagons. Lea bela had wanted to go and thank him for his intervention in the marketplace, but Ninsha had managed to persuade her that that would be inappropriate, and that she should wait until he approached her. But all he had done that first morning was to give her a stately nod, which she had returned. Then, in the evening, at their first caravanserai, when Lea bela had been sitting on a mat on the sand under a parasol with Amunita bela, Ibba, and Ninsha around her, giving her first lesson, he had strolled up, but stopped at a respectful distance. He had nodded, but when Lea bela had made to rise, Ninsha had sprung to her feet, making a ‘stay put’ gesture to Lea bela. It was not appropriate that her mistress, a bela who called the beltu ‘Amata ama,’ should rise for the sukkal of Qui. If she felt she must pay him respect, it should be at second hand, by her maid.

Ninsha had approached the sukkal with an enquiring look on her face, but the sukkal had just waved her away, quite rudely. Good: anything which showed the true character of the sukkal to Lea bela was welcome. Ninsha had taken her seat again, and Lea bela had continued with her lesson. She spoke of the fine fruit groves of which grew in the fertile, mineral rich soil in the Garden of Umar to the east of the town, of how the fruits were dried, and traded to Adir and beyond, to Findias and the land of the Norsemen, and the wealth that trade brought the Land of Aria. The sukkal had stood there, watching, listening and, Ninsha was sure, weighing her bela up and scheming.

The next evening, they found an canopy had been set up for them, for Lea bela’s little school. The sirdar had told them this was on the sukkal’s instructions. Ninsha hadn’t wanted to use it: her experiences of priests, sukkals and particularly of Qui, was that the less one had to do with them, the better. She reminded her bela of the beltu’s warning, but Lea bela had said that going somewhere else would give offence. So they had settled under the sukkal’s canopy, and Ninsha had watched for his next move. This had been almost immediate, for no sooner had they begun than Ishimud had come. Lea bela hoped he had come to join the school but no, Ishimud said his instructions were to guard them. Still, he had listened and looked, though, she was sure, with more looking at Lea bela than listening to her.

But … the sukkal’s behaviour was very strange. He detested any education but religious; he hated Findian influence; he fought against women’s learning, let alone teaching. Yet here was he not only allowing it, but helping it. But then, he had been the least likely man to help her bela in the marketplace also. What was going on? Here was something deep, deep and twisty. She must keep watching.

 

And now, halfway between Adir and Umar, was he making a direct move? But no, he stopped a good ten paces away, and waited. And Lea bela, seeing him out of the corner of her eye, brought to the lesson to a finish.

Then she gathered her skirts about her, stood up, turned to face him. Ninsha sprang up and walked round to stand behind her bela, a respectful five paces back. The sukkal gave a small bow and she bowed in return. Then he walked up to her. He was going to speak to her? Directly? Had he no shame?

“Peace be with you, lady Lea. I apologise for approaching you, madam, but in the circumstances we are in, travelling by caravan to Umar, the full protocol of our customs is just not practical to follow. So if you will, lady Lea, allow me to introduce myself. I am sukkal Urbiku of Qui.” He bowed his head again, and she did the same.

“Peace be with you, sukkal-mah,” she said, and stood silent, waiting.

Good. Her bela was learning how to respond. Previously, her eagerness made her appear forward. Now she was behaving with more reserve, as expected of an Arian bela.

“I trust the arrangements made for your lessons are satisfactory, lady Lea.”

“Very satisfactory, sukkal-mah. Thank you for providing them. Sukkal-mah, I have been wanting to thank you for defusing the situation in the marketplace in Adir, with that priest of Ishtar.”

He bowed his head. “It was my duty, lady Lea. Sometimes the zealousness of priests spills over into injustice. I was glad of the opportunity to help.” Hai, Ninsha believe that when the Agammu turned to sand. “Perhaps, lady Lea, you would take tea with me at the serai hostelry?” Hai, more shameful behaviour. Had he no respect for her reputation?

When Lea bela hesitated, he said, “I know this is this is at variance with our customs, Lea bela, that a young woman should accept such an invitation from a man who is not a member of her family. But as we are travelling, and travelling together, and I am old and harmless, is it necessary to follow normal protocols? Perhaps you would gratify an old man’s whim?”

Old he might be, but as harmless as a sand adder. But what could her bela say?

“I am honoured, sukkal-mah.” She glanced at Ninsha: she was to follow. Hai, she would have anyway. She would not leave her bela alone with a man - and especially not with the scorpion.

The hostelry proprietor hurried out as they approached, and ushered them into a small table with a canopy shading it. Ninsha placed herself three paces behind Lea bela’s chair, and fixed her eyes on a spot one pace above the sukkal’s head. But her ears remained open.

“So, are you enjoying travelling in our country, lady Lea?”

“Very much so, sukkal-mah. Though my purpose is not enjoyment, but study. I am a student of your culture and your history, and the purpose of my visit to Aria is to further my knowledge by the study of your buildings.”

“I have seen you making sketches, lady Lea, which I take it is your method of recording our buildings and street scenes. May I see one of your sketches?”

“Oh. Oh, all right. I have one here, just a simple basic sketch of the market garden outside the caravanserai wall.” She laid it on the table in front of him.

“You are talented, lady Lea. Just a few lines, but you have captured the essence of it.”

“Not really talented, sukkal-mah. I have trained myself to pick out the important features, and get them down quickly. Sometimes people object to my sketching.”

“Do you sketch people as well?”

“I do not sketch people, for some believe a likeness of a person contains part of his or her soul. So if I were to sketch people, I could be accused of soul-stealing, of witchcraft.”

“But I see you have drawn a cat, in one corner of your sketch, so it is not devoid of animate creatures.”

“Yes, I often put a cat in, just to give scale to the drawing. So one knows, for example, how high the wall is, in relation to a cat.”

“I see. Very clever, just a few lines indicating the curves of the body and the tail, the eyes and the ears, but clearly a cat.”

“Thank you. I could have chosen another animal, but cats are more or less of a standard size, and often seen just sitting, so they are ideal for my purpose.”

“And having made a record of the notable buildings and public places in Adir, you are going Umar to do the same?”

“Yes, sukkal-mah. Your culture is rich and deep, and I wish to explore what I can. Adir is very interesting, but has undergone change recently. Umar, I am told represents Aria as it was a century ago, so it will be fascinating to see.”

“Culturally a century as well as architecturally. Not that Umar has been static, but Adir has undergone great changes since relations with Findias have been … normalised. Some think this bad. What is your opinion, lady Lea?”

Hai, a dangerous question if ever she heard one, and from the scorpion, which made it triply dangerous. Would her bela fall into the trap?

“I can have no opinions about the culture of another country to my own, sukkal-mah. I am here as a student, to learn, nothing else.”

“But you teach every day, lady Lea. You are in a position to influence young minds.”

“Oh, that is different. I teach facts, not opinions, not ideas.”

“But you express your opinion in other ways, lady Lea, do you not? Did you not rescue the young girl standing behind you from the temple of Ishtar?”

“Again, sukkal-mah, that is different. It was an extreme situation, and unlikely to be repeated. Besides, the opinions I expressed there were that the men of Adir would act honourably, legally and in accordance with the teachings of their religion. What rational person could take offence to that? And you gave me your support on that occasion, sukkal-mah.”

“True, true. So, you visit Umar to further your studies. You will have a guide there, Lea bela?”

“I thank you, yes. I have a letter of introduction from Amata beltu to her cousin the lugal of Umar asking him to allow me to visit selected places, and record them. Do you know the lugal, sukkal-mah?”

“I do, lady Lea. A wise and cultured man. I meet from time to time with the sukkal of Umar, to discuss matters of mutual concern to Umar and Qui. Ah, how I look forward to getting back to Qui. The cool, fresh mountain air, the towers of rose-stone climbing the mountain side, the forest behind. Umar is interesting, lady Lea, but Qui, Qui would be a paradise to a student of our architectural heritage. The citadel of Qui is unique, lady Lea, unchanged from three centuries ago, a city frozen in time. It would be a pity to come so far and not visit the jewel of Elluria. Have you considered visiting Qui, lady Lea? May I, on the half of the atu of Qui, invite you to visit the city. It is only two days beyond Umar. The atu would be delighted to see you, and will appoint scholars to show you whatever you wished.”

He wanted her to come to Qui? Was this what his attention was all about Yes, no doubt the atu would be delighted, more than delighted, to see her bela. But how would that benefit the sukkal? His business was the running of the city, not the atu’s love life.

“Thank you, sukkal-mah, for your gracious invitation. Unfortunately, I must refuse.”

He spread his hands. “But why? Such a visit, such a record of such buildings, surely that would be a gem in your collection? I can tell you, lady Lea, than other than that our local scribes, no one has made a comprehensive study and record of the city for generations. You will be the first. It astonishes me that any scholar would hesitate such an opportunity.”

“It sounds wonderful, sukkal-mah, but unfortunately such a visit cannot be. I gave my word to Amata beltu that I would not go beyond Umar.”

He shook his head. “This is passing strange, lady Lea. You would be as safe in Qui as you would be in Umar. Safer, for night wolves prowl in Umar, but street robbery and violence are unknown in Qui. The people are happy and content there. Do you know why, lady Lea, Amata beltu made such a prohibition? Perhaps it was just lack of knowledge about the city.”

He was pressing her, more and more. This was rude. He must know of his master’s reputation, that he could not be trusted around a pretty young woman. Just as he must know that her bela, any bela, would never be so unmaidenly as to say so.

“Not in any detail, sukkal-mah, but she felt she could not guarantee my protection beyond Umar. Amata beltu has showed her trust in me by putting her great-niece into my care. I must honour the word I gave her.”

“Of course, lady Lea, of course. No one would expect a lady such as you to do otherwise.”

This was a quick turnaround. One minute pushing, pushing, pushing, the next accepting her decision. He must have another plan, for the scorpion was not a man to give up, particularly because of resistance by a mere woman.

The sukkal looked around. “Ah, lady Lea, I see darkness approaches. Let me escort you to your quarters. I fear I must forego the delight of your company for the remainder of the journey, as I have matters of administration to attend to.”

That was a relief, but Ninsha would have been happier if he extended that ‘foregoing’ to forever.

 


	11. On the trail, a day and three-quarters from Umar

“By tomorrow evening, Ninsha, we shall be in Umar. The journey has been fascinating for me. The dry scrub desert, the marshes covered in mist, the towns and serais. Your country is very beautiful, though this part is very austere.”

Her bela kept using words which Ninsha didn’t know. Often she could work out what they meant, but sometimes she just had to remember them, and then, in the evening, look them up in the book of meanings, the dictionary, that her bela had given her. She liked it. Lea bela spoke to the beltu in exactly the same way. So it meant her bela respected her, respected her intelligence. She showed it again by letting Ninsha walk with her alongside the wagon train, as they were now, and talking to her about, oh, all sorts of things. Her life as a nomad, her life in Adir, her aspirations - another word she’d had to look up.

Nomad life fascinated her bela. She never tired of hearing how Ninsha’s family had coped with life on the tundra, with winter blizzards, sickness in the herd, the isolation and loneliness, everything. She’d softened some of it: her bela was not ready to hear about her grandmother quietly walking off into the snowy night to save the family, and quite possibly never would be.

“You know, Ninsha, in some ways, you have been very lucky. You have learnt so many unique skills. Self-sufficiency, for example: could any Adiri go out into that harsh environment and survive? I know I couldn’t.”

“No, bela, but neither you nor they have to. They can stay safe in Adir. To be able to drive a ’bou sled, trap game for eating, make a shelter in a snowstorm: what use are those skills in a city?”

“The skills themselves, perhaps, are of not much use, but the mental discipline that goes with them? What makes us what we are, Ninsha, is our decisions, our choices, where we choose to go. Do you remember Amata beltu saying that? In every choice, to a greater or lesser extent, we have to balance risk and prudence, tempered by knowledge and sense, to choose the most appropriate way to go. Then put everything into the going. This is doing one’s best, and is the most anyone can expect of anyone else. It is something which I have to think about, to force myself to do. The easier path is often very tempting, and sometimes I am too weak to resist.”

Could her bela really believe this, that a person could shape her life as she chose? That the expectations of family and culture could be put aside? That it made no difference who you were, how poor your family was, whether you were a girl or a boy? Besides, all her choices, all her ‘doing her best’ had been to survive. The choice had been no choice at all: you did it or you died. And yet… her bela was a clever woman.

“But for you, Ninsha, doing your best is second nature. I don’t mean it is easy. Taking the hard path, the courageous path, is never easy. But when you are in a bad situation, you can assess it, analyse it, make a decision and then have the strength of mind to carry it out. That is what your nomad life has taught you, because you have been in critical situations. You habitually do your best, time and time again. Your nomad life, building on the foundation of your innate abilities, has made you what you are. Don’t you think these life skills are worth having? Amata beltu does. Amata beltu thinks highly of you, Ninsha.”

She was not enjoying this, this looking at herself. “I loved my life as a nomad, bela, though I always wanted something more. But if a city person wishes to insult someone, they call them a tundra girl.”

“So I have heard. But whose regard do you value more highly, that of Amata beltu, or of some ignorant, narrowminded person who uses terms like that?”

“I value the beltu’s regard, bela, but yours, more.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about my regard, Ninsha. Every day I feel my good fortune that chance brought you to me.”

“But the bela did not want a maid.” There, she had finally asked the question.

“No, I didn’t. My needs were simple and I didn’t wish to set myself up as person of status. I considered myself to be here in Adir as an observer, an academic researcher: one looking, but not participating in society. And what an mistake that was: I offended Amata beltu, the one person whom I should have been at pains to get to know and stay on good terms with. If I thought about a maid at all, I would have thought in terms of…” She nodded her head towards the wagon. Ibba? “And I certainly would have seen no benefit there. But you are so much more than a maid, Ninsha. I have learned so much from you. And I don’t just mean how to behave like a lady in Arian society, though your instruction has been invaluable there.”

“If the bela was not already a lady, bela, all the instruction in the world would be useless. All the bela needed was the … etiquette.” That was a word she’d never thought she’d use.

“I think a little more than that, Ninsha. But I was thinking of my studies, how much I have learnt in my field. Not just the practical aspects of nomadic life in Aria, but how you overcome difficult circumstances, how adversity bonds a family together, even how, when catastrophe strikes, you struggle and -” She stopped. “I am sorry, Ninsha, I should not be speaking of that. It is very insensitive of me. But I do want you to understand that I don’t regret for a moment employing you. I have learnt so much from you.”

“But bela, it is the bela who has been teaching me.”

Her bela waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that is just facts, facts and skills which anyone can teach. How many could describe the lifestyle of a nomad with the authenticity of someone who has actually lived it? Those pictograms in that little temple in the last serai: I could tell you what they meant, but from your knowledge of travelling, herding and trading, we could work out how they had evolved from simple sketches of caribou to the stylised pictograms we saw. To be able to do original research like that is wonderful for any scholar.”

Smiling, Ninsha shook her head.

“Believe me, Ninsha, I am the net gainer in this. Yes, I have taught you some skills as well: mapreading, basic navigation, deciphering ideograms, extending your vocabulary, but all I’m doing there is facilitating, directing and focusing your innate abilities, Ninsha. And you have those in such abundance and depth that teaching you is a pleasure. You are intelligent, diligent and retentive of what I tell you. Amazingly retentive. I don’t think you forget anything. I suppose that could be because of your upbringing: you have needed to rely on your memory from a very early age in order to survive. Combining those abilities with your determination and eagerness to learn, Ninsha, makes me think you will go a long way in life.”

Hai, in Aria? A female? But it would be rude … no, what was the word? … ungracious, yes, ungracious to say that.

“And of course, Ninsha, if you had not approached me in the marketplace, I would still be, at best, sketching in Adir; at worst, on my way back to Findias on a ship. Instead, I am here, travelling through Aria on a wagon train, journeying to Umar. So I have every reason to be grateful to you, and pleased that you are with me.” She waved her hand towards the mountains ahead. “They are so majestic. Do they get snow?”

“Oh, yes, bela, deep, deep snow. In a few weeks, it will start. Before long Qui can be reached only by sled, and even then with great difficulty.”

“And there beyond the Agammu? We can’t see it, but you have crossed it, Ninsha.” She gestured to the west. “Do you remember how high it is, Ninsha, and how big, from the map? The Iribal Plateau?”

“Eleven thousand two hundred feet at the highest point, bela, fifteen hundred feet higher than the pass of Qui. Thirty miles wide by eighty miles long. And much more exposed. No one can cross the Iribal plateau in winter, bela, not even nomads. Blizzards, day after day.”

“There, Ninsha, you have told me something I didn’t know. That blizzards occur on the plateau I could deduce, because of the altitude and topography, but not that they blow for days at a time and certainly not that it is impassible even to those with the survival skills of a nomad. And I cannot doubt the accuracy and authenticity of this information, for I learnt it from someone who has seen and experienced it. Not that I imagine many people use that trail, for it leads only to Lusagaz. Just smugglers and brigands.”

“Many people do use it, bela. A few smugglers and brigands, yes, but mostly those fleeing justice, the temple’s justice or the lugal’s justice, or who have been exiled, and have no other place to go.”

“I think I would call it ‘the law,’ Ninsha. The law is a set of rules which men make, and enforce. Justice, or more specifically, moral justice, is a matter of right and wrong. Sometimes laws are just, sometimes they are not. Sometimes they are used to oppress the weak and powerless, which sounds like the case here.”

Hai, how she valued these little walks with her bela. Words, ideas, that she had known and accepted most of her life, were taken and pulled apart - analysed, her bela called it - and the subtle differences between them explained. And because she understood those differences, she could put thoughts and feelings, angry feelings, she had always had, into words and explain them more clearly, both to herself and others. That made the hurt easier to bear. Not much, but a little.

“What happens when these people reach Lusagaz? Is it not a slaver city, besides having a sideline in piracy and brigandage?”

“It is, bela. If the people have money and are not robbed, then they go on, elsewhere. If they have not, they are taken in, fed, and sold by auction.”

“That’s terrible, Ninsha. To be sold into slavery.”

“Many feel it is better to be a slave than to be dead, bela. Most exiles come from Hakkan. Often my family have met them on the tundra, fed them and helped them on their way. The lugal of Hakkan rules with a rod of iron.”

“It is so wrong, the way the common people are exploited everywhere. Thank goodness for enlightened women like Amata beltu. Well, Ninsha, we are not going there, neither to Hakkan nor Lusagaz. Tell me about the Agammu. Does the mist ever lift?”

“No, bela, never. The tops of the Teeth of the Annunaki can be seen from the edge of the Iribal plateau, but below lies the mist, covering it everywhere like a shroud, as we have seen on our journey.”

“Yes. A strip of marshland about half a mile wide, then a wall of mist, a dull white nothingness. It must be easy to lose one’s way. But of course, Ninsha, with a compass, you can find your way even in the mist, can’t you.”

“Hai, bela, not across the Agammu. The Assaku live there.”

“The abode of demons. I have read that, yes. Is that belief widespread?”

Ninsha stared at her. “Belief, bela? It is the truth. Have you not felt the ground trembling more and more as each day passes? It is because we approach the haunts of the Assaku. The Teeth of the Annunaki are the gateway to the underworld. Sometimes, on very still nights, one can see the glow of the Fires of Hubur there, and on windy nights one can hear the Elullilium, the wail of the spirits of the dead as the Assaku drive them into the Passages of the Dead and down to Hubur, where the Annunaki sit in judgement.”

Her bela nodded. “I see.”

Her bela clearly did not see, not to the extent of believing. Did she believe in anything she could not see? “Two days ago, bela, when we were walking, you spoke of faith and beliefs. You said that though we were intelligent beings able to reason, we still needed faith, for without faith there is no hope and without hope there is no reason to keep living. You said everyone had faith, even those who deny it, but that it took different forms. Some have faith in the gods, in their benevolence: some in the love and caring of family, or a particular person.

“We spoke of conflicts in faith; do you remember that, Ninsha?”

How could she not: her bela saw conflicts everywhere. Conflict had caused her to rescue Ninsha. “I do, bela. You spoke of the conflict between word and deed, how the priests talk of the loving, merciful benevolence of the gods, yet around us we see the temple tithes and fines causing misery to the common people. You said that as thinking beings with a strong sense of right and wrong, we must recognise these conflicts and have the courage to examine them, even if we know we lack the strength to change anything.

“But the priests see no conflict. They say they are justified in these demands, do they not, Ninsha?”

“They say the tithes show our respect, and the fines are for not showing respect. If we do not respect the temple, we do not respect the gods, and they will become angry and punish us. But, bela, you said that faith and beliefs must not be accepted uncritically, without any questioning. As moral beings, we must seek the truth. Our intelligence and our ability to reason, aided by knowledge, are our tools in that search. If the priests tell us that something is divine will, there must be evidence for that. Evidence that it is the will of the gods, and has no other, natural, explanation.”

“Yes, Ninsha?”

“Then you spoke of the drought of two years ago, of how the priests said it was the wrath of the gods, send to punish us for non-observance of temple rituals. Yet all knew that the winter had been mild, and that the snowfall on the Elluria was less than usual. All knew that spring had come early, and that the rivers ran full for a short while, so that what little water there was, soon drained away, before the summer. So there was a natural explanation for the drought. And the mild winter meant that greater numbers of herd animals survived, and the mild spring that more newborn young survived. So the livestock farmers did well, though the crop farming suffered. Were the gods punishing some but not others? How could that be, if the people as a whole had not shown sufficient respect? And the drought did not hurt the people, because the lugal of Adir, knowing of the eleven-year cycle from state records, had filled the grain stores. So the temple claim of the gods’ punishing us did not stand up to examination, neither in the cause of the drought or in the outcome.”

“I am impressed, Ninsha: you have summed up what we discussed very well.”

“Bela, in what I have told you about the Assaku, I have applied what you told me. There is evidence, powerful evidence, for which there can be no natural explanation. And you will see it, bela, very soon.”

“I will? I will see evidence that there is a portal to the underworld in the Agammu? I will see evidence that demons and departed spirits are in the Agammu? I will see evidence of a supernatural nature?”

“Yes, bela, you will.”

“I look forward to it, Ninsha. It will be a new experience for me.”

“You will see, bela. You do not believe now, but you will believe afterwards, for we must pass through the Namgata Hills.”

“Yes, as we saw from the map last night, we cross them today. We must be close to them now.”

“They are just beyond this outcrop, bela.”

“Unusual topography, just a single line of hills rising from the plain, running in a great curve from the Agammu to the mountains. Clearly part of the same geological feature as the Teeth. I am looking forward to seeing it.”

“It is hard to see much, bela, for the Namgata lie in mist.”

“But they are not high, barely a hundred and fifty feet according to the contours.”

“That is just the land between the Stumps, where we cross. The Stumps themselves are much higher, bela.”

“Two or three hundred more, according to the map. Great columns of rock. But I still don’t see the topographical conditions necessary for mist to form. Unless of course, the source is the same as on the Agammu. Yes, that must be it. Well, this should be very interesting.”

Hai, more than just interesting if Ninsha knew anything about it. “Here comes the wagon boy to call us. We must ride in the wagon now.”

“Oh? This is customary?”

“Yes, bela. You see the trail climbing, bela, up into the mist. We come to the Namgata.”

“But we have to ride in the wagon? Are the hills dangerous? Bandits?”

“The Namgata are dangerous yes, bela, but not bandits. No bandits live in the Namgata. No one lives in the Namgata. You will see why, bela. Come, bela, we must go to the wagon, or the whole train will stop to wait for us.” And that, she knew, would mortify her bela.


	12. Through the Namgata Hills

The canvas awning was up, covering the whole of the body of the wagon, even the section at the back, where Amunita and Ibba would usually sit in the open as they travelled.

“Whatever is the matter, Amunita?” said Lea bela. “Why are you sitting here in the gloom?”

Amunita stared at her. “Because of the Assaku, Lea bela. Has not your maid told you? You were walking with her for long enough.”

“You are sitting under cover because of the demons?” Her bela never responded to Amunita’s little digs of spite.

“And I suppose she hasn’t given you your amulet, or wool for your ears, either. It is a good thing somebody thinks of these things: I have a spare amulet and wool here.”

“Thank you, Amunita bela,” said Ninsha, “but I have carved amulets from a broken branch of the sacred thorn which I picked up on the trail yesterday. Here is yours, bela,” and she handed the carving on its leather thong to her bela.

Her bela looked at it. “A carving of a tear, Ninsha? Or … no, it’s quite long, and has a little notch at the end. A flame, Ninsha?”

“Yes, Lea bela,” said Amunita, “a flame to burn away the mist of the Agammu, which brings with it the Assaku.” She glared at Ninsha. “The sacred thorn? And you didn’t make one for me, girl?”

“Here is yours, Amunita bela, and yours, Ibba.”

“Amunita, please address Ninsha by her name,” said Lea bela. “Using derogatory terms is demeaning to her and unladylike for you.”

“If you say so, Lea bela,” said Amunita in a flat tone. She took the amulet, and tucked it into her collar. She glanced at Ninsha. “Were they blessed? No, Lea bela, put yours inside. It must lie against your skin to be most effective.”

“By an anchorite of Baal,” said Ninsha, “at the shrine outside the serai gate.”

“And why not by the sukkal of Qui, when he blessed all the other amulets last night? He is a high ranked priest, his protection must be stronger.”

She would not accept a grain of sand from the sukkal of Qui. “Who can say whether a sukkal is holier than a hermit, in the eyes of Anu, Amunita bela?”

“Or indeed, Amunita” said her bela, “you, me, Ibba, or Ninsha?”

Amunita gave Lea bela a look of disgust. “It is not a matter for silly talk, Lea bela. This is real. We are nearer to Hubur in the hills of Namgata than anywhere else in Aria. The Assaku lurk here, watching for the foolish and unwary.”

“That still doesn’t tell me, Amunita, why a man’s blessing should be stronger protection than a woman’s.”

Amunita sighed, and handed her a wad of cotton wood. “I’m going to block my ears, Lea bela, and you should block yours.” Ibba gave a giggle. “To keep out the Elullilium,” Amunita added.

“The Lament of the Dead?” Lea bela looked at Ninsha. “Is that what we’re going to hear, Ninsha?”

“No, Lea bela,” Amunita’s voice was shrill. “It is what we are not going to hear, because we will be sitting here, wearing our amulets of sacred thorn, hands over our plugged ears, eyes shut, until we are well into the Garden of Umar!”

“Well, Amunita, if you want to do that, that’s fine, but if there is something to be seen, I’m going to sit with the driver to see it.” Lea bela got up and, ignoring Amunita’s protests, made her way to the front of the wagon.

And her? Ninsha could not very well leave her bela to go and sit there alone. If her bela went, she must go. She got up, ignoring Amunita’s glare and stepping over Ibba’s outthrust foot.

Her bela was unlacing the front awning. “You don’t have to be here, Ninsha. If your … beliefs make you unwilling to risk this, that’s fine. I won’t mind in the slightest if you sit in the back with the others.”

“I will sit with you, bela.” She put herself on the bench between her bela and the wagon driver. Propriety must be observed, even if they were about to be assaulted by a horde of demons. The wagoner glanced at them and pointed to their ears. He had already stuffed his own with wool. Lea bela shook her head. His eyes widened, but then he pulled his hood over his head, turned to the front and sat, legs braced, shoulders hunched, fists gripping the reins, eyes fixed ahead. He had more important things to worry about than crazy foreign belas.

“The bela will not block her ears?”

“No, Ninsha. After all, this is the evidence you were going to show me, isn’t it?”

Was it all her fault, that her bela was risking her soul? “Yes, bela, but it was foolish of me to mention it. I should not have told you.”

“Oh, Ninsha, I don’t what is going to happen, but I would not miss it for the world. Do you think I could get off and walk?”

“Hai, bela, no!” Ninsha grabbed her bela’s hands. “No, you must not. The sirdar would stop the whole wagon train.” He wouldn’t, of course. No sirdar would stop his wagon train when passing through the Gap of Namgata, no, not even if the lugal of Adir was standing in the road. The wagoners would ride him down, taking him for a demon. But the last thing she wanted was her bela strolling through the hills, looking around for the Assaku while the wagons disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“All right, Ninsha, I won’t. We’ll just ride and I will look and listen. You may plug your ears if you wish, Ninsha.”

No. It was her fault her bela was sitting here, so any risk her bela took, she would take also.

And … it was too late anyway. She put her finger on her lips, and pointed to the mules. Their ears had come erect, and they were shifting from side to side as they walked. The lead mule shook his head, as if to dislodge a bee. His walk broke into a trot, and the others followed him.

The wagoner took in the slack on the reins.

Then Ninsha heard it, a faint whining sound, and looking across at her bela, pointed to her ears, and raised her eyebrows.

“What?” whispered her bela. “I can’t hear anything. Can you?”

Ninsha nodded. It was hard to hear anything over the rumble of the wagon, but the sound was clear to her.

“No,” said her bela. “Wait… Yes… Yes, a sort of a droning sound. Is that what you hear, Ninsha?”

Ninsha nodded, and crossed her lips with a finger. Talking was bad, talking attracted the attention of the Assaku. Besides, the spirits could enter through their open mouths.

The mules quickened their place to a canter, and the wagoner tightened the reins. He was as eager to get through the Gap as they were, but the wagon train still had another ten miles to go before the serai on the banks of Umar River, and mules exhausted from panicky uphill galloping would not be able to do that.

Ninsha knew how they felt. The sound was now a distinct wail, rising and falling, not loud, but piercing and eerie. She should have blocked her ears. But her bela had not. Hai, not only not, but her bela had her head to one side, and was listening, listening avidly. Hai, in a moment she would be standing up, calling and waving, to attract the demons.

But now they were approaching the stumps, where the grey rock jutted from the black, and the stench of the underworld came out. That would show her, yes: that this was real and dangerous, and not just something to be ‘not missed for the world’, like a show of acrobats on the camping ground outside Adir city walls!

And yes, her bela had caught it, for she had lifted her nose and scented the air. Now, now she would see, now she would realise that the Passages of the Dead were real, and open, and nearby, and that the demons were all around them, waiting, watching, and she would shrink back, and cover her ears and close her eyes, and believe!

But … again, she did not! She was looking around even more now, at the ground and the rocks and - Ninsha could scarcely believe it - she was smiling, as if she had found something new and unexpected. What was going through her bela’s mind, that she should behave so?

“Hai, hai.” They had reached the flat, the driver called and shook the reins, and the mules broke into a gallop. The wagon pitched and heaved as they crossed the stony ground, and with such a racket of creaking and groaning of leather, wood and iron that the Elullilium could hardly be heard. Not the smell, though, that grew stronger and stronger as they approached the Gap. The mist thickened, so much so that that she could scarcely make out the tall grey towers as the wagon hurtled between them.

Then they were through, rolling down the descent, away from the Namgata, out of the mist. Sound and smell died away. The wagoner’s head came up, his back straightened, and he drew in the reins. The mules slowed to a canter, then a trot as they descended the gentle slope to the green fields of the Garden of Umar.

Her bela stood up, turned, and, holding onto the awning hoop, stared back at the mist blanketing the Namgata. Hai, not only was her bela not terrified, she wanted to see more!

Then she turned to the driver and said, “May we walk now, Gabkas-gar?”

They were already approaching the first fields. The driver reined in the mules, and Ninsha and her bela got down.

Only the drivers were out on all wagons that passed, and most of them still wore hoods. They stared at Ninsha and her bela beside the trail, and some of them shook their heads. Hai, Ninsha knew what they were thinking.

“Well, Ninsha, what a change in vegetation. Dry scrubland on one side of the hills, and fertile farmland on the other. No wonder they call this the Garden of Umar. It must be that the wind that comes down the valley behind Umar picks up moisture off the Agammu, and then is channelled around by the Teeth to water this farmland. And the minerals from the vent emissions would do wonders for the fertility of the soil.”

A few moments ago they were surrounded by demons, and here her bela was speaking of the fertility of the soil.

“Lea bela.”

“Yes, Ninsha? Can you talk now?”

“Yes, bela. We have left the Namgata. Bela, what we heard there, smelt there, the Lamentation of the Dead, the Reek of Hubur, you do not believe it, bela?”

“I’m sorry, Ninsha. No, I don’t.”

“But the evidence, bela, the evidence is there: the sound and the smells.”

“Yes, Ninsha, they are there, but there is a natural explanation. We do not have to resort to supernatural forces to explain them.”

“What is that explanation, bela?”

“Ninsha, I can tell you if you wish. But many people take comfort in their religion, in their beliefs. They don’t want those beliefs shaken, even if they are … improbable, given the evidence.”

“A natural explanation cannot render a faith invalid, bela.”

“Indeed no, Ninsha. In fact one could argue that if gods created the world, it would be perfectly reasonable that they would use the natural processes of that world to create all the phenomena we observe. But if you believe in demons as part of your faith, and suddenly the evidence for demons is no longer valid, a thinking person would begin to wonder what else is not valid in her beliefs. You have suffered loss and trauma in your life, Ninsha, so may draw comfort from your faith. Also this is your society, your culture, and you have to live here. I would not make your life harder by sowing disquiet, even if …”

“Yes, bela?”

“Even if, in my opinion, Ninsha, the natural explanation is incontrovertibly true.”

“I do not wish to believe things which are untrue, bela.”

“I believe that is a healthy attitude, Ninsha. All right, I will tell you. Do you know what a volcano is?”

“A fire mountain? I have seen one, bela. In Hakkan, far to the east. We passed by it when we went to buy livestock. It was quiet then, just steam rising from the top.”

“Has it always been quiet?”

“Hai, no, bela. In my great-grandfather’s time the mountain spewed fire and molten rock. The town of Ashkelon, at the foot of the mountain was buried. The priests said it was a sign from the gods, that they were angry with Hakkan.”

“I suppose that is why Hakkan is so religiously conservative now.”

“They have always been backward, bela. My mother’s grandfather was from Ashkelon, just a sheperd boy then, away in the hills with the flock. The priests said that Ashkelon had been chosen because it was given over to the worship of false gods, and to debauchery and sin. My great-grandfather said this was lies, slander, that the people there were like anywhere else, and that Ashkelon was buried because it just happened to be at the bottom of the fire mountain. The priests sought him out, to stone him for blasphemy, and he fled Hakkan for Aria.”

“I would agree with him, Ninsha. But I am glad you have seen a volcano, because otherwise what I’m about to say could be from the realms of fantasy just as much as what you have been told. Just as there is an active volcano in Hakkan, there was, and is, volcanic activity here. The western part of the land of Aria is on the site of a giant caldera, that is, a collapsed volcano. Geological activity is going on under our feet. That is why we feel the earth tremors. From what I can see, the Namgata Hills, and presumably the Teeth of the Annunaki of which they are an extension, are the eroded remains of a dyke which forced its way up through a crack in the basalt cap. The smells: well, you said yourself you saw steam rising from the volcano. If you had climbed the volcano you would have found steam, but probably also other strange smelling gases, perhaps what we smelt today, a gas called hydrogen sulphide, like rotten eggs.”

“It is true that when we passed by the fire mountain, we could feel the tremble in the ground. But what about the fires, both at the mountain in Hakkan, and at the Teeth of the Annunaki here?”

“I think they have different origins, Ninsha. When a volcano erupts, molten lava, liquid rock, comes out from deep under the earth, so hot that it glows. I don’t know why the heat should produce glowing, but it does. The same thing happens in a blacksmith’s workshop, in his furnace.” The image of a leather aproned, burly man hammering a horseshoe on an anvil, orange sparks flying with each blow, came into Ninsha’s mind. “On the Agammu, I would think that any fire is result of burning marsh gas or methane, rather than any volcanic gas. This is produced by decomposing vegetation, marsh reeds and so on, and ignites spontaneously upon contact with the oxygen in the air. At the Teeth the vegetation would probably be buried under erosion debris fallen from the pinnacles, and the methane seeps upwards through the fragments of rock, igniting when it reaches the surface.”

“So it would not need to be a continuous fire: the water could put it out, and it would just reignite. That would explain why it comes and goes, rather than the gates of Hubur opening and closing”

Lea bela smiled at her. “Exactly so, Ninsha. You are using knowledge to create hypotheses, a vital part of any analysis of cause and effect. And of course, of questioning beliefs.”

“What about the mist, bela?”

“In cold weather when you breathe out, Ninsha, your breath condenses. It is simply the effect of warm moist air, meeting cold air. And that is all that is happening here: warm, moist air, heated by burning marsh gas, meeting cold air coming down from the mountains. It would not surprise me if that is the cause of the perpetual mist that blankets the Agammu. As for the sound, the Elullilium, with the high winds and broken crags around here, it is surprising that there are not more strange noises.”

“You know all of this, bela? You have been taught it, in your schools?”

“Yes, Ninsha. Not specifically about the Agammu, but geology, volcanic processes, marsh gas, what happens, what one might see. Of course, once we believed as you do. But then men of science investigated it, and formed theories, and tested them, and the result is what I have told you. They are natural phenomenon. We don’t need supernatural causes to explain it. Have you heard of a place called Durakin, on the Umar river, Ninsha?”

“I have been there, bela, with my family on pilgrimage to the temple of An, to see the duriganzir, the eternal flame.”

“Ah, I see.” Her bela said nothing more.

“You have something to tell me about Durakin, bela?”

“I… I don’t want to undermine your beliefs in your gods any further, Ninsha, so perhaps it is best if I stay silent.”

“If it is to do with learning about volcanoes and geology and gases, Lea bela, and you believe it is the truth, I would rather hear it.”

“All right. If you look at the map, Ninsha, and extend the curve of the Namagata Hills to the Umar River, they meet at Durakin. The hills now merely constrict the river flow, but once would have blocked it. What does that lead you to think, Ninsha?”

“That there could have been marshes there, and if there is marsh gas at the Teeth, there may be marsh gas at Durakin. It is true that the rock there is hard, like in the Namgata. Most of the houses are built of it.”

“Excellent, Ninsha. You are using your wider knowledge to build up a hypothesis. That is what scholars do all the time, make connections between bits of knowledge. Yes, it is possible that the eternal flame is burning marsh gas from a buried marsh.”


	13. The sukkal's gift

The day’s lessons were due to start, the last session before they reached Umar. Would it be a formal lesson or, as had happened twice before, a walk and talk along the marsh edge. First to walk would be Amunita and her bela, then Ibba and her bela, and then finally, walking back again, her and her bela. Her bela spoke to her about books and writings, about what wise people said and thought, and then she asked Ninsha whether she thought they were right, and listened to her answers, and discussed them with her.

What her bela spoke to Amunita about was a puzzle. Amunita knew about fashion and boys, neither of which held any interest for her bela. Still less did Ninsha know what she spoke to Ibba about. Her bela would try and try, because that was her nature, but Ibba would gaze at the ground and give one word answers. Ninsha knew, from the sag of her bela’s shoulders, that this was dispiriting for her. It could not be otherwise: even if Ibba was interested in self-improvement, and she was not, her mistress’s jealousy and resentment against the bela would have kept her quiet. Hai, she would have been pinched if she had done anything else. It was wasted time, which she, Ninsha, could have had.

This serai was on the banks of the Umar, and a walk up the river with the water on one side, the green fields with the harvest workers on the other, would be very pleasant. But now they were neither sitting and listening, nor walking and listening, for the sukkal had come to speak to her bela.

Ninsha had wondered, after her bela had refused the sukkal’s invitation to go to Qui, whether the mats and awning would disappear. She had rather hoped they would, for any gift from a priest came with a cost, a cost invariably far greater than the value of the gift. But all continued as it was, except that three days previous the Gautian boy had asked Amunita to help him read some pictograms on a shrine built into the serai wall. This was a problem, for, as usual, Amunita had paid no attention to Lea bela’s lessons. So Amunita was reduced to asking Ninsha, which was humiliating, but not nearly as much as if she had had to ask Lea bela. So Ninsha had given Amunita bela a quick lesson, and lent her her notes with the pictograms she had copied.

It was really quite funny. Amunita was angry with Ninsha for learning so much when she had learnt so little, and for taking notes when she had taken none - though Ninsha had noticed Ishimud’s name written on a few pages - but on the other hand was happy that she now had some knowledge to show off to the boy without involving Lea bela. Approaching Lea bela would have been too high a price to pay even to impress Ishimud.

But it was also a little sad, for it was just plain as the nose on her face that the reason that Ishimud wanted to learn to read pictograms was so he could impress Lea bela. Not that he would actually try. Ninsha could read the signs, and she could tell that the boy would never pluck up the courage to approach her bela directly: he was too much in awe of her poise and looks, not to speak of her cleverness and learning. So everyone was deluding themselves about everyone else. But she had learned one thing: Amunita bela was clever. If she put her mind to something, she could learn quickly. It was just her ... silliness that was holding her back.

So the boy and the girl had met a few times, and everyone knew except Lea bela, and everyone wondered what she would do when she found out. Did the sukkal know? It was difficult to imagine the sukkal interesting himself in the emotional entanglements of an adolescent girl, but Ninsha had seen him watching her. He had some plan involving them, of that Ninsha was sure.

And today he made a move, and Ninsha watched as he spoke to Lea bela, his gaze on her face, her gaze on the ground.

“You, tundra girl!” Amunita would not dare to call her that if Lea bela was there. “How dare you go and sit in the open with the faranja today, when I stayed in the back? And go through the Gap of Namgata with your eyes open and your ears not blocked. Are you trying to show me up, you dirty tundra girl?”

Hai, but this girl was self-obsessed. “But Amunita bela, you would expect Ibba to sit with you, would you not? So how could I not go and sit with my bela.”

Amunita narrowed her eyes at her. “I don’t believe you. You didn’t block your ears or shut your eyes either, I heard you talking. And yesterday, in lessons: have I not told you not to get answers right when I get them wrong?”

This again. Amunita could not bear to be outdone by a servant girl. Ninsha’s help with the pictograms had not made Amunita like her better. “Bela, how can I know if you have them not right before Lea bela has looked? And how can I know if my answers are right or wrong?”

“Of course you know, tundra girl. If you didn’t think they were right, you wouldn’t put them down. So put down another answer.”

“But bela, what if the answer I think is right, is really wrong? Then if I put another answer, that I think is wrong, it might be right.” Would she swallow that?

“You are being clever again. That answer is fallacious, as Lea bela would say, sounding plausible but clearly nonsense.”

“Ah, so you are learning from Lea bela, Amunita bela.”

Amunita glared at her. “This is all foolishness anyway. Why do I need to know how many bales of mule fodder we will need if…” she looked down at the sheet in front of her and spoke in a singsong voice, “‘one mule eats five kilograms, there are twenty kilograms in a bale, we have twenty mules and the journey is over ten days.’ Who cares? That is for the sirdar to work out. I am a bela, My mind is on higher things.” Yes, like gardunam Ishimud Gautian.

Ibba simpered in agreement.

“But you, tundra girl, you always give the right answer. So don’t give me that rubbish about not knowing. Why all you always right? You are not clever. You are just a weavergirl. With a cheeky sister.”

So Amunita had recognised her. What would she say if she knew that Ninsha really was a girl from the tundra? She’d never told her, and neither the beltu nor Lea bela had mentioned it.

“We have to learn to count and calculate for the weaving, bela.”

“And the maps? Do you have to learn to read maps for the weaving too, tundra girl? You have the faranja going ‘Oooh’ and ‘Aaah’ over your map reading. Yesterday I saw, yes, I saw Lea bela and the sirdar and you looking at a map, and you were talking like you were a man, a sirdar yourself, and pointing at the map, and explaining like he was stupid. And that stupid compass with the silly needle turning every which way. Did you learn that for the weaving, tundra girl?” She pointed a finger at Ninsha. “You think you are clever, tundra girl. Who are you to be taking lessons from a Findian faranja, talking to the sirdar, talking back to me? You are a no-one, and don’t you forget it, tundra girl. In a month the faranja will go back to Findias and you will be left in Adir, and go back to the weaver shop. Or worse. But maybe, as you know all about mule fodder, I’ll let you look after my pony.”

“Do you have a pony, Amunita bela?”

“I am getting one, tundra girl. A gift. So when we get to Umar I will go riding into the country, and, who knows, up to Qui.”

“Tsst,” said Ibba, and they turned.

Her bela was coming back, the sukkal walking away. His steps were brisk, hers slow and slightly unsteady, her face pale and her expression anxious.

“Amunita, dear, I just had the most extraordinary request. The sukkal has asked if I would accept, on your behalf, the gift of a pony cart and pony. I refused, of course.”

“You refused, Lea bela? But why? It would be so useful. Instead of walking in the evening, we could ride.”

“The usefulness is beside the point, Amunita. Even in my culture, no one, and especially a woman, accepts a gift from a person she barely knows, let alone one of that magnitude.”

“But such gifts to my great-aunt are often made.”

“I do not doubt that, Amunita dear, and that Amata beltu makes a return gift of equal or greater value. We are not in a position to do that, and even if we were, I would not.”

“But perhaps he intended it as a compliment my great-aunt, Lea bela.”

“Very likely, Amunita. If you and I were no one, he would pay us no attention at all. But if he means it as a compliment to her, let him give it to her.”

Amunita scowled at her. “She does not need it, Lea bela. I need it. This gift is a compliment to me. You should have asked me before you refused it.”

Her bela’s eyebrows went up. “A compliment from a high priest to an adolescent girl? That is a hundred times worse, Amunita.”

Amunita had the grace to blush. “Not from the sukkal, Lea bela, but from gardunam Ishimud, the boy who guards us during your class.”

Lea bela frowned. “Ishimud Gautian? Have you been seeing him outside the class, Amunita?”

Amunita’s chin rose. “Why should I not?”

“Surely you can see that, Amunita dear. Because you are the beltu’s great-niece. Your actions reflects on her. If you behave in a way your culture considers inappropriate, it is not only your reputation that is damaged, but hers also.”

“But have you not told me, Lea bela, that our culture chains women? I am showing initiative, which you have told me is a good thing, to break those chains.”

“Amunita dear, those chains can only be broken by the carefully considered actions of mature, intelligent, respected women like your great-aunt. Improper behaviour by a young girl will only draw opprobrium, and if anything, strengthen those chains.”

“Oh! Improper behaviour? You, an unmarried woman, a bela no less, wandering through a foreign land looking at buildings, speaking with men, all sorts of men. And you tell me off for speaking to a boy? Your behaviour is a hundred times more improper.”

“But I am a foreigner, Amunita dear, and that makes all the difference. Your culture excuses me my behaviour because it does not expect me to abide by its standards. And I can speak to these men because I am old by your standards, and strange looking by your standards. They do not regard me as a woman, merely as a foreigner. You are a young woman and a daughter of a noble house. The cultural expectations are high and rigid, and the censure great.”

“Not a woman! And just why do you think they are all so eager-” She stopped, bit her lip, then said, “I don’t see why you should be allowed to do things I am not”

“Amunita dear, you are being deliberately obtuse. We are not talking of what should or shouldn’t be allowed. We are talking of what is allowed.”

“But I want to see him.”

“I can see that, Amunita dear, but you may not. You may talk to him at the end of the class, but only very briefly.”

“I want to see him outside class, where you will not be watching us.”

Her bela’s sighed. “Amunita, I am trying to explain this to you as a mature, sensible girl of fifteen. A girl who is old enough to recognise that she has been bought up with privileges that few girls in her society have. A girl who is old enough to realise that with those privileges come responsibilities and duties. And the first duty is that you do not embarrass or distress your family by improper behaviour.”

“You forbid me to see him, Lea bela?”

“I want you to see, Amunita dear, that it is inappropriate. I want you to agree not to see him.”

“And if I will not?”

Her bela sighed again. “Then, Amunita, yes. I forbid you to see him. I am responsible for you to your great-aunt.”

Amunita slammed her book shut and stormed off to their quarters. Ibba, her eyes on the ground, followed her.

“Oh dear,” said Lea bela, “I really don’t like coercion. It’s so immature, and an admission of failure. I handle this sort of thing so badly.”

“No, bela, you do not. You gave all the reasons, but she refused to accept them.”

“I suppose all girls go through this stage. She is so young. Does she have feelings for that boy, Ninsha? Can you tell?”

“At fifteen a girl is in love with love, the poet says, bela. She likes him because he is tall and goodlooking, and is well born, but most of all, I think, because he comes from Qui and the atu of Qui is a teenage girl’s dream lover, like the dashing prince of the fairytale. But I do not think he has any real feelings for her.” Should she mention that the boy was mooncalf over her, Lea bela? No, Lea bela must know that already, and it would just embarrass her.

“Will she obey me, do you think, Ninsha?”

“I cannot say, bela. She used to having her own way.”

“So I have seen. Shall we walk now, Ninsha? I don’t think Amunita and Ibba will be attending the lessons today. Tomorrow we will reach Umar, and then she will be her cousin’s responsibility. I just hope that someone sensible is there who will look after her.”


	14. Umar

Was there? After three days, they still did not know in whose care Amunita bela was.

They had been greeted at Taskarin House by the housekeeper, and given suites of rooms, one set for Lea bela, another for Amunita. They had not been invited to meet the lugal or his wife, as both were old and infirm, and did not entertain at all. Amunita had been offended, but the housekeeper had said those were the sukkal’s instructions, and she must do as she was told. The only family in attendance at Taskarin House were from the wife’s side, a family of cousins. The womenfolk welcomed them, and had nodded and smiled when Lea bela had commended Amunita bela to their care. But Ninsha had been watching Amunita, and saw her stiffen on meeting them, and her nose turn up, and her voice become haughty. They were from a lesser family than the Taskarin. Amunita would sweep them aside, like a broom with the autumn leaves, and do what she wanted.

But also, Amunita made it plain to Lea bela that she was now with family, in House Taskarin Umar, and so out of Lea bela’s charge. Lea bela, picking up something of Amunita’s disdain for the cousins, had not been entirely satisfied, and had made her promise not to seek out Ishimud. Amunita had begun to argue, but then had agreed. Which in itself was suspicious.

Lea bela had had to be satisfied with that. But still she worried, and asked Amunita every day what she was doing that day, making it sound like a polite enquiry, and Amunita had responded politely in return. Which again was unlike Amunita.

Something was going on, Ninsha was sure, but also that Lea bela could do nothing about it.

The offer of the pony and cart: the boy must have mentioned it to Amunita, as a gift from family Gautian for them to use in Umar. Amunita, half blinded by infatuation, had taken it to be for her, and the sukkal exploited that. He must have known that Lea bela would not accept it, yet he had made the offer. Why? Ninsha could not fathom it, but, if the sukkal was involved, it meant something, and that something would have more twists and turns than a worm in a rotten apple. All she could hope was that whatever game the sukkal was playing, the stakes were small, and no one would get hurt. The sukkal must know that the Taskarin were not good to have as enemies.

“So what are your plans today, Amunita? Would you like to join me and look at the temple of Enlil?”

“Thank you, Lea bela, perhaps tomorrow I will go with you. Today I am visiting my second cousin. She has spools of dyed Findian cotton, and we are going to design a cloth pattern.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting. Ninsha would be good at that. Would you like to go with them, Ninsha, and give advice?”

Before Ninsha could so much as open her mouth, Amunita said, “That won’t be necessary, Lea bela. My cousin and I need no advice.” Behind Lea bela’s back, Ibba rolled her eyes.

“Oh. All right. Well, enjoy yourself. I’d really like to see the pattern when I get back.”

“Certainly, Lea bela. I shall enjoy showing it to you.”

Another polite, conventional response from Amunita. Something was going on here, no question.

But her, Ninsha? Would she like to go with the beltu’s haughty great-niece, be treated like a servant, worse than servant because her mistress had the effrontery to suggest that a weaver girl could give advice to the beltu’s great-niece, or would she like to go with her bela, and be treated like a valued and intelligent person? Would she like to eat mud or aniseed cake?

It must be wonderful to see the world in such a rosy glow, a world where everyone was kind and understanding, and wanted to help each other. Were all Findian faranja so sunkissed? Surely some must realise that most people were not open and honest and caring, but rather like the reeds of the marshes of the Agammu: tall and straight above the water, but below, roots twisted and tangled, and some with monsters lurking.

 

“The temple of Enlil is this way, bela.”

Ninsha led the way around the edge of the marketplace. She had avoided the marketplace for the first two days, not wishing to expose her bela to the stares of the men, but yesterday they had met with a harridan dressed in black rags in a slimy back alley which had reminded her of Eel Lane in Adir. The harridan had hurled abuse at her bela, calling her a witch and a harlot. Although Ninsha could make sure her bela was clothed in dark, dull colours, and fully covered, she could not disguise her height and pale face. Traders staring was better than being spat at and having ugly names shrieked at her. They had the permission of the sukkal to visit certain temples, and wore the purple sash of House Taskarin, but neither carried the weight in Umar that Amata beltu’s name alone carried in Adir. Her bela was nervous after yesterday, and walked close behind her, her head down. Another seven days, and they would set out again for Adir. Ninsha could not say she was sorry, though Umar had happier memories for her than Adir.

 

“Now that one, over the main doorway, Ninsha, how would you translate that?”

“The lugal’s name is shown by the pictogram for stormy water, bela, so would have a certain meaning, a name, which I do not know. But I would translate the inscription as: ‘Stormy Water lugal Taskarin, warrior king, took an army across the mountains to … invade Hakkan. He … fought a battle at the citadel of Qui, and … breached the walls’ - I think it is ‘breached the walls,’ bela, because of the broken line, but that ideogram is quite worn, so hard to read. ‘Breached the walls, and entered, so many men slaughtered that the … rye … the crops became tall and strong … grew well. Hakkan, defeated … sued for peace, giving land, the citadel of Qui, slaves.’

“Excellent, Ninsha, I couldn’t do better myself. Why do you think the crops grew well because of men slaughtered? Some religious ritual?”

“I think, bela, that their blood and bodies fertilised the soil.”

“Oh. How gruesome, but, I suppose, realistic.”

“I did not know, bela, that Hakkan occupied the citadel of Qui once.”

“Oh yes, Qui has changed hands more than once, though it was originally built by the Taskarin of Adir. Now look at the carving to the right of the doorway, Ninsha. What is that remind you of?”

“Reeds, bela.”

“In what way, Ninsha?”

“The lines and the curve of the roof, bela, and the way in which they spread out at the top.”

“Yes. That form of curve is called an arch, and the spreading could be described as plumes. Have you seen those plumes anywhere else?”

“On a high priest’s headdress, bela.”

“Yes. So you can see how everything is linked, and if you follow the path they point to, it takes you back to the earliest reed huts of the marsh dwellers. Nothing ever occurs in isolation, Ninsha. Everything is built on something else. Now perhaps we should return to House Taskarin. The winds are starting, and the sun has sunk behind the Iribal. We don’t want to be out after dark.”

Those were true words. Even by herself, Ninsha disliked being out in any town after dark, but with her bela in train it was out of the question. It was wonderful having such a place as House Taskarin to go to. Hai, she would never have dreamed the last time she was here, that the next time she would be maid to a bela, a faranj bela, and staying in the house of the Taskarin. Life had looked bleak then, and had proved even bleaker than she believed possible until, at the nadir, she had met Lea bela. Her bela was one gift of the Fates that she would hold onto with all her heart as well as all her strength.

The stalls in the marketplace were closing as they passed, both traders and shoppers reluctant to be out in the freezing winds which came down the mountain in the late afternoon.

“I hope Amunita wore warmer clothing today. Yesterday she was out in flimsy Adiri clothing, not at all suitable for Umar.”

“Ibba laid out a heavy coat for her this morning, bela.”

“Oh, good. And the Qui party left this morning, so that’s a big worry out of the way. I hope Amunita is not too upset. She’ll realise, as she grows older, that society judges women harshly, far more so than men. A woman does have to behave with propriety if she is to retain respect. If she doesn’t have respect, she’ll never change anything. Oh, this wind is icy. It bites into any exposed skin. I do hope Amunita is back.”

 

She was not. And when a worried bela sent Ninsha to investigate, she found their rooms bare of bela, maid, clothing and baggage.

The cousins had smiled, lifted their shoulders and spread their hands. Amunita bela had gone with the sukkal’s party to Qui. No, she had not consulted them, but yes, they were sure she had gone. Of course they had not tried to stop her, for was not the atu of Qui a cousin? By this time the party would be at the serai above the Tiers of the Annunaki, halfway to Qui, high in the mountains. Send a messenger after them? Now? At night? With the haunts of the Assaku nearby? Not possible, no one would go. Tomorrow, maybe. But she must speak to the sukkal, for clearly the matter was becoming political.

Her bela sought an immediate audience with the sukkal, and much to Ninsha’s surprise, it was granted. After her bela had poured out her tale and her plea, the sukkal said, “I am surprised to see you here, lady Lea, for I thought that your whole party had gone on to Qui, on the atu’s invitation. I can understand your distress, particularly considering that the beltu entrusted her great-niece to your care. And she is under-age, and with only her maid. Yes, it is not a good situation. I agree, she should be retrieved, as soon as possible, by a person in authority.”

“I would go myself, sukkal-mah, had I not given my word not to go beyond Umar.”

“Indeed not, lady Lea. I would not advise you to go, for all that the matter is of importance, and that Qui is a flower of a city. It is two days’ hard journey by wagon, and cold and windy. Though two strong horses pulling a light carriage can do it one in one day.”

“Can we not send a message, with the lugal’s seal, instructing her to return?”

“That is not impossible, lady Lea, but would take time, for the lugal is not well, and what strength he has is devoted to matters of importance in running the city.”

“Well, we must do the best we can. I really don’t think I can go myself, sukkal-mah.”

“Indeed not, lady Lea. I would not advise it. And there is much for you to see here in Umar, while you wait for the three or four weeks the business will take.”

“Three or four weeks!”

“It should not take longer, lady Lea. We will put the matter to the lugal tomorrow. He will deal with it in say a week or so, as it is a small matter. He will consider it from your point of view and from her point of view, for her action indicates that she wished to go to Qui. Though I’m sure he will decide in your favour, and ask the atu of Qui to return the young lady. Then the messenger will take the message to Qui, and seek an audience with the atu. This may take another week or so. Then he will present the letter, and the atu will consider the letter, and decide what is in the young lady’s best interests. He may discuss it with her, consider her point of view, and of course, you will not be there to put your point of view. If he then decides to send her back, he will do so. If he can, of course.”

“What you mean, sukkal-mah?”

“The time of year, lady Lea. Winter approaches. The snow are due in a week or so. Qui is high in the mountains. Once snow closes the pass, the citadel is cut off from the rest of the world for the next six months.”

Her bela stared at him. “That’s … That’s out of the question. Six months!”

The sukkal spread his hands. “And in six months, who can say what might have happened?” He paused, then said, “I see your concern, lady Lea, and though I advise you strongly not to go to Qui, a personal application to the atu has the greatest chance of success.”

 

This stank, stank like a three-day dead Agammu eel in high summer. As soon as they reached their rooms, Ninsha stepped in front of her bela, and said, “Lea bela, you must not go. You promised the beltu you would not go.” Would her bela take offence, her maid reminding of her promise? But she must not go.

“Ninsha, I must go. Amata beltu cannot have foreseen this situation, where her great-niece was persuaded to go to Qui alone. All that the beltu said of the … appetites of the atu of Qui applies to Amunita bela as well as to me. And you, for that matter. You must stay behind.”

Hai. Her bela had been first in line when goodness and courage were handed out, but must have been behind the door when it came to sense.

“Bela, I am a servant, and plain. In the atu’s eyes I am less than an ant. If I were to stand in front of him, he would not even notice me. Amunita bela is an ordinary girl of the people, not very pretty, not very clever, not witty. Her too, he would not notice in that way. But you, Lea bela, he will. He will notice you very much.”

“Amunita and Ibba were my responsibility, Ninsha. I am duty-bound to try and help them. The beltu would expect it.”

“On the journey, they were, bela, yes. But not here, not in Umar. Here she must surely be the responsibility of her family. Bela, the beltu knows the atu of Qui, and she absolutely did not want you to go to Qui.”

Her bela shook her head.

“Bela, this is a trick, more than a trick, a trap.”

Her bela’s eyebrows went up. “Really, Ninsha? Why should anybody want to trap me?”

“Bela, forgive me, for I must speak plainly. In our land we have a saying: trust a beggar before a thief, a thief before a moneylender, a moneylender before a priest. And a sukkal is a hundred times worse than a priest. I do not know why the sukkal of Qui wants to bring you before the eyes of the atu, but he does. He has set the trap, and is helped by the sukkal of Umar. The bait is a foolish girl who believes the atu’s nephew likes her.”

“Ninsha, surely you are over-dramatising this whole business. Yes, the sukkal of Qui did suggest I visit Qui, but accepted my decision without question when I said I could not. And the sukkal of Umar said a number of times that he thinks I should not go.”

Hai. How could a woman be so clever and yet so blind. She sought the meaning behind an engraving in a temple, but not behind a person’s words.

“Bela, these men are craftsmen in making people do what they want. What they cannot get by just ordering, they get by persuasion, and what they cannot get by persuasion, they get by manipulation. Urbiku sukkal saw you would not be persuaded to come by enticements, so he did not try. Trying may have aroused suspicion. Instead, he observed. He already knew of your sense of honour, for he had seen that in the marketplace when you rescued me.

“He saw it again in your teaching, in your walking with Amunita bela, Ibba, and me, and also he saw your sense of duty, your sense of obligation. That made his task easy: he would draw you to Qui using honour, duty and obligation. And how? By manipulating the resentment and romantic feeling of a silly girl you felt bound to protect. What could be easier?

“And the sukkal of Umar? The reasons he gives are false, bela. A week to get the lugal to look at the situation? In our culture family matters are of first importance. If a member of his family has gone missing, the lugal will give instructions for her retrieval immediately. A messenger in Qui waiting for a week to have his message letter read? A note from the lugal of Umar to the atu of Qui, or from sukkal to sukkal would be read immediately. And if a matter is small, it is quickly dealt with. And considering her point of view? Amunita bela is a girl, underage, and gone from her protection. No one would ask her what she wanted. The lugal would send to retrieve her immediately. The sukkal’s reasons do not accord with our culture, bela. He is in league with the sukkal of Qui.”

“Do you really think that men of such high rank would act so dishonourably?”

“Bela, I would trust a Hakkan rattlesnake before I would trust a sukkal.”

Her bela was silent, and said, “Even if what you say is true, Ninsha, where does it get us? It just tells us, with greater certainty, that the sukkal will not help us get Amunita back. It just tells us, with greater certainty, that I must go to Qui.”

“No, bela,” Ninsha burst out. Then, “I am sorry, bela, it is not my place to speak so. But if the hare knows that the wolf is waiting, does she run out from a safe place?”

Her bela smiled. “To save her own young, she might.”

“But Amunita bela is not your daughter, she is just a foolish girl acting out a silly dream. If we wait, and do nothing, she will be returned.”

“No, she is not my daughter. But Amata beltu, who calls me daughter, entrusted her great-niece to my care. Amata beltu did all she could for me. How can I do less for her kinswoman? And her dream might be silly, but we know the atu’s reputation. Might not he take advantage?”

“Hai, bela, the atu has the pick of women. He would not give her a second glance. And even were she a beauty, she is still a daughter of Family Taskarin. The atu would not cross the Taskarin. She is safe, bela. They will return her in a week, and everyone will say: ‘Hai, misunderstanding: foolish, lovestruck girl,’ shake their heads, shrug their shoulders. ‘No harm done. Here she is, take her back back to her family.’ But they are gambling, the big men, gambling that you will act as you did with me, bela, bravely but impetuously, without regard to your own safety. You must disappoint them, bela. You must sit quietly and wait, and Amunita bela will be returned.”

Her bela stood, walked to the window and stared out for a few moments. Then she turned and said, “Ninsha, you are a clever girl. In my world you would go far with your intelligence and your grasp of human psychology. I believe you are right. But there are other factors at risk here. The building of relations between your people and mine. Amata beltu was kind enough to help me, and entrusted her great-niece to my care. What will your people think if I just sit and wait? That the Findians take and do not give. That they betray a trust, that they are cowards, to be despised.”

“No, bela, they will not. Those with any understanding will say you were clever enough not to fall into the trap, Lea bela. Amata beltu would say, ‘Wait.’ Your own people would say, ‘Wait’.”

But her bela just gave a sad smile. “Ninsha, they are not here. I am here, and I say I cannot wait. Too much is at risk. You say those who think would say I would be right, I would be sensible and wise to wait. But Ninsha, how many people think? How many go beyond what they see, beyond their first thoughts?”

“Enough, bela, enough.”

“No, Ninsha, not enough. Even if they were over half, it would not be enough. And you know as well as I do, Ninsha, that those who think are less than a half of a half. The others will see a faranja betraying her trust, a Findian too cowardly to act as she should. The reactionaries, who wish to keep Aria in the thrall of the temple, would say: ‘This is what the Findians are like, with all their fine ideas about freedom, about rights, about education for all. They have no honour, so why should we follow their example?’ Amata beltu’s school for educating girls, the lugal’s reforms for bringing democracy, would be called anti-Arian.”

“It would be a lie, bela. You have shown already you have courage, that you would not betray a trust. You have shown honour.”

“Have I? Even if I have, we are at another time and another place, and I must show again that a Findian believes in those things, enough to risk herself. We spoke a few days ago of doing one’s best. This is my best. It is not much, but I must do it. I must go to Qui. But I will go alone. This is my risk that I take on myself. I don’t want you to come. It is too dangerous.”

“It is not too dangerous for the object of the atu’s desire to risk herself, but too dangerous for her little maid, who no one would even notice? How can it be a betrayal of honour if the bela does not go for the sake of the beltu’s great-niece, but not a betrayal if I do not go for the sake of the bela? No, Lea bela, you must lock me up if you would leave me, for otherwise I will follow you to Qui, on foot if I must.”


	15. The Citadel of Qui

The sun, low under the snow clouds, was a mere hand span above the high Iribal horizon when they crossed the summit of the pass.

Halfway down a long meadow, the driver stopped and swung down from his seat. Looking in at the carriage window, he said, “I must breathe the horses, bela-mah, and let them recover from the imhullu. Not for long, then we descend to the citadel.”

“Oh. Oh, all right. I’m not surprised that they need a rest after that everlasting climb, and the dreadful wind and sleet. Shall we take a walk, Ninsha, while the horses are breathed? Gabkas-gar, will you pick us up, further along the trail?”

“There may be bandits, bela-mah,” and he turned and called to one of the men at arms who had ridden guard behind them all the way from Umar. “Gardugar, the bela-mah wants to walk a while.”

The rider gave a curt nod, and swung down from his horse. He took a crossbow from his saddle, and followed them as they walked.

Ninsha had never heard of bandits on the pass of Qui. The atu would surely welcome them, as a change from hunting his usual prey of deer and Hakkanites. And if there were, what good would one soldier be? She turned to look at him. Hai, he was big enough; tall and broad across the shoulders. He wore a green cape, just like the man who had tripped her in the marketplace. But he had been a faranji, and most faranji in Adir were sailors from the trading ships. Had that one been the sukkal’s man? Who could tell: this man’s face was hidden, his scarf wrapped all round except for his eyes, against the cold mountain wind.

“Does the wind always blow like that, Ninsha?”

“Always, bela. All that changes is the direction: sometimes up the mountain, sometimes down, but always strong. They call it the imhullu, the wind of destruction. You have seen the dwarf trees, bela: nothing grows above waist height except in the hollows. We are eight thousand feet above Umar, bela, and the valley is like a hollow reed cut end to end down the middle.”

“That’s a good way of describing it, Ninsha, though I think the prize for poetic description must go to ‘The Amphitheatre of the Dingir.’ And what is the effect of the hollow reed, Ninsha?”

 If her bela could turn something into a lesson, she would. “The sides channel the wind, bela. The snow never lies thick below the pass on the Umar side, the wind blows it away, but still the pass is guarded and impenetrable. You remember the ledges just below the lodge, where the trail wound back and forth?”

“The Tiers of the Annunaki, where the Dingir gather to watch the Annunaki sit in judgement. A very evocative description of an interesting geological feature, Ninsha. Narrow, parallel, layers of sandstone, laid down in a prehistoric sea, transformed by volcanic heat and pressure into sills of hard rock, eroding so as to form ledges stepping up the hill. Impermeable sills so the groundwater runs across the top to drip down the tiers. Can you envisage that, Ninsha?”

After days of talking about geology, Ninsha could. “Yes, bela. Sedimentary layers forged, folded and slanted into metamorphic sills. It is that dripping water, bela, that forms ice across the trail, sloping ice, and it becomes very hard, so that an ordinary sled would slip off, down the mountainside.”

“A military barrier to the Hakkan, I suppose, but tens, perhaps hundreds, of millions of years in the making. Isn’t that wonderful? And wind chill, I suppose, enhancing the normally low temperatures.”

Did her bela believe in any gods at all? Everything had a natural explanation. “One slip, and you are gone, a thousand feet, even the mountain deer and the goats. In early spring, just before the melt, the common people in Umar go out and climb the slopes to the pass to get the bodies of the animals which have slipped and fallen. They call it the Harvest of Imhullu. Sometimes there is not a single unbroken bone in the body.”

“It sounds lethal, Ninsha. And I’m sure it is that same wind, blowing down and through the Teeth that causes that eerie wailing sound we heard when we crossed the Namgata hills.”

Hai: Ninsha wasn’t so sure about that.

“And that same wind, blowing across the Iribal, causes the blizzards you told me about, Ninsha, to make that impassable in winter. Just dwarf shrubs in the hollows there too, Ninsha?”

“Not even that, bela. Just stone, bare and lifeless, scoured by the wind.”

“It sounds a terrible place, Ninsha. What happens on the Qui side of the pass?”

“Just normal wind, bela. You can see that from the forest here: dense, with high, strong trees. But the pass is almost as impenetrable, because of the thickness of the snow, greater than the height of a man, even that man behind us.” And he was standing very close, closer than a guard needed to. She turned and gave him a glare, and he stepped back, his eyes fixed on her.

“Oh, look.”

A silver fox stood out at the edge of the trees, head up and turned towards them. Her bela took out a sketchbook and started drawing. Behind them the guard stood still and silent, further back now.

Her bela’s pen strokes were swift and sure, and within quarter finger-width of candle, she had captured the spirit of the wild creature. She was just marking the shading lightly when there was a click behind them. Ninsha turned. The guard was slowly raising a cocked crossbow. Ninsha spun back, clapped her hands and shouted, “Hai!”

With a flick of his brush, the fox vanished into the trees. Ninsha turned again, to glare at the guard, but stepped back involuntarily as he swung the crossbow across to point at her. He held it there for a moment, then swung it further, to point at her bela’s back. Scowling at him, Ninsha stepped between them. His eyes fixed on her, he lowered the bow and de-armed it. What was this? No Arian soldier would behave like this: he must be a rogue faranji.

Turning her back on him, she said, “Let us walk, bela. I have something to show you.”

The trail, now falling gently, curved around to the north-east. The forest to the north gradually closed in, until they came to a sharp bend, the trail swinging sharply east, and along a ledge cut into the mountainside.

“Oh!” gasped her bela. “Oh! Oh, Ninsha!”

They were on the edge of a cliff. Far below lay the valley of Qui, a turquoise lake and beyond, on a great rock promontory, the citadel of Qui, its rose coloured towers and turrets lit by the late afternoon sun. High walls sprang from the stone, then ascended, terrace upon terrace, up the mountainside to vanish, high on the spur, into dark green forest. On the valley floor, the trail appeared from the shadow of the cliffs, and along the lake shore, then crossed and followed the river to disappear into the gorge of Qui, away down to the Land of Hakkan. A branch split from the trail just beyond the bridge, crossed a ravine in one great bound, and climbed to the citadel.

“Yes, bela, it is impressive.” She tried to sound enthusiastic but immediately her bela turned to her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ninsha your memories of Qui must be far from happy.”

Ninsha forced a smile. “It is still beautiful, bela.” A cold, harsh beauty, built to defend the pass, to keep men out. And more than adequate to keep a woman in.

Her bela took a step forward, closer to the edge. Ninsha put out hand to stop her, but was pushed to one side by the guard, who grabbed her bela’s arm and pulled her back.

“Careful, my lady. The cliff edge rock is rotten and you would fall all the way to the Lake of Qui.”

Hai! No need to look, now. Findian brashness, Findian accent, Findian address. Could he be _that_ Findian?

“Thank you, guardsman.” Her bela freed her arm. “You are Findian?”

“I am, my lady.” He pushed back his hood, and unwound the scarf from his face. Involuntarily, Ninsha took a step back. The gallu. The very man who destroyed her family. The bela took her arm, saying, “Be careful, Ninsha.”

The gallu stared at her, narrow eyed. “You know me, girl?”

“No!” Hai, a ‘no’ like that was a ‘yes.’ “No, no, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you, girl. Where have you seen me before?”

“I don’t know you as a person, but many have heard of the redhead faranji who serves the sukkal of Qui.”

“I serve the atu of Qui, girl. And how is it that you know Qui, that you can lead your lady to this viewpoint?”

“Guardsman,” said her bela, “I don’t know who or what you are, but you have no right to interrogate my maid like this. Please stop it.”

The gallu stepped back and gave a low, sweeping bow, more like a mocking courtier than a soldier. “I apologise, my lady. I am, as I have said, merely a servant of the atu of Qui. The local people are superstitious, and call me the gallu, or devil, because of my red hair. Because of those superstitions, I do not advertise my presence, yet your maid, a girl from a weaver workshop in Adir, has heard of me. And she knows about the pass, and about Qui. I find that intriguing.”

“Indeed. I find it intriguing that a Findian is here, in such a remote place, serving a man who rules as a feudal warlord.”

He bowed again. “Man proposes, fate disposes, my lady. Are you not here, where you would rather not be? Perhaps I am the same. Ah, here comes your carriage. It is not safe for you to be out in these mountains after nightfall. That trail, my lady,” and he pointed to a track worn into the hillside to the west, “leads to Lusagaz. Perhaps you have heard of it?”

“It has an evil reputation.”

“It is an evil place, my lady. The dregs of humanity, and sometimes they wander up here, across the Iribal plateau. I would like to see you safe in Qui before darkness. Let me hand you into your carriage, my lady. I shall ride guard for this last section.”

Yes, a man like the gallu would know Lusagaz. Doubtless he had come that way himself, years before, in flight from Findias for some crime, but finding that Lusagaz already had robbers and renegades enough, had come across the Iribal plateau to seek his fortune in Qui.

 

As they rumbled down the hill, Ninsha said softly, “Hai, bela, I like this less and less. That man, the gallu, he serves the sukkal. He was in Adir. The sukkal left him in Umar to bring us to Qui, I am sure. More, bela: it was he, the gallu, who cheated my father at Qui; it was he who stole our herd at Umar. He is evil. And if the servant is evil, how much more evil must the master be.”

Her bela took Ninsha’s hand, and squeezed it. “We are committed, Ninsha. Even if we wished to turn back now, he would not let us,” and she gestured to the roof of the carriage. “But forewarned is forearmed, Ninsha.”

Hai, bela, armed with what? A twig is as useless as a straw against a gallu. And an atu.

 

By the time they had reached lake of Qui, the sun had set and a light snow was falling. Through the gaps between door and frame a chill wind entered. The citadel rose before them, no longer a fairytale castle of elegance and beauty but a cold stone fortress: powerful, arrogant, ruthless. It would take as it wished and hold as it chose, without regard to anything but its own whims and desires.

The driver stopped and lit the lamps when they left the main trail, but the citadel showed few lights, just growing darker and darker as they drew closer. Like their hopes.

The rumbling of the iron wheels changed to a clatter as they reached the cobbles of the bridge which leapt the torrent of Qui River. Now, she must speak now, to distract her bela.

“Bela, I think we will need clogs for walking in Qui. Did you notice if there are any under the seats?”

“Clogs, Ninsha?” Her bela was looking at her.

“Yes, bela, the streets, or lanes rather, for all the streets in Qui are very narrow, they are very-”

“Oh, what-” The carriage had lurched, and her bela had looked out of the window at just the wrong time.

On a post fixed to the bridge parapet hung a body, arms and legs limp and dangling, the head hanging forward, and, lit by the carriage lamp, the face with its grimace of death, eyes open, but pecked away by the crows. The smell of rotting flesh drifted through the carriage.

It was not more than a pace from the carriage window.

“Oh, oh, oh, what is that!” and her bela shrank back, her hands covering her face.

Ninsha leapt to her side, and put her arms around her bela. “Hai, hai, bela, it’s just … I am sorry, bela, I should have warned you, but I didn’t want you to see them.”

“There are more?” Her bela’s voice had a touch of panic.

“Just one or two, bela. No, don’t look, bela,” and she took her bela’s hands, for it was a lie. The corpse bridge had space for four on each side. Though, of course, just one was enough to show the cast of the place they were going to.

The carriage clattered down the slope and the wheel noise became a rumble again as they reach the paving stones beyond the bridge.

“So this is Qui.” Lea bela’s voice was calmer now. “A place where they line the bridge with gibbets. As an example, as a warning. I never thought that places so dark still existed. How can the sukkal visit somewhere like Adir, then come back here?”

Because his mind is as dark as this fortress. But Ninsha did not say it.

They were climbing now, climbing with great spurts of breath from the horses’ nostrils condensing in plumes in the cold air. Before them, the citadel loomed ever bigger over them. They crossed the chasm bridge, ascended the last stretch and came up to the great bronze-studded oak doors. One leaf swung open, they passed through, and it closed behind them with a reverberating thud, and a clank as the iron bars were shot back into place.

Would those doors ever open again, for them?

The carriage swung round, and rattled over cobbles a short way, then stopped next to a burning torch fixed into a wall. The door opened, and the gallu’s voice said, “Welcome to Qui, lady Lea.”

Her bela did not answer, and Ninsha glanced at her. Her face was pale in the lamplight.

“We have no litters in Qui, my lady, as the streets are too narrow and steep, but your quarters in the Palace are but a short walk away. May I fit your plattens?”

What! Let that devil touch her bela’s ankles with his bare hands? Never. “Pass them in, I will fit them, gardugar.”

The gallu’s eyes narrowed, but he passed them in. Ninsha fitted them, buckling the leather straps criss-cross over her bela’s shoes. Then she checked her bela’s gloves. The gallu would hand her bela down, Ninsha could not prevent that, but he would never touch her flesh to flesh if she could help it.

They followed the gallu, men with flaring pitch torches in front and behind, up a flight of stairs, through an opening in a thick wall, and along a steep, narrow alley. The torches hissed and spat as snowflakes hit them. The cobbles were wet and slippery, and she walked close behind her bela, watching that she did not fall. The wind, channeled by the high walls, was biting cold. Another flight of stairs, another opening, another steep alley, and then they turned into a courtyard paved with flagstones. They crossed to a large wooden double door with pitch torches on each side, and the gallu knocked.

One leaf opened, and he said, “Here is the Findian rose, housekeeper. Keep her safe.”

As if he were delivering a piece of valuable merchandise, rather than escorting a living, breathing, feeling person. And in phrases which showed she was expected.

He turned to her bela, said, “I am sure you will enjoy your stay in Qui, lady Lea,” bowed, and walked away into the gloom. The mocking courtesy of a servant of darkness delivering an innocent to the fire in Hubur.

The housekeeper was tall and gaunt, with a face as grim as cold stone. She closed the door, said, “Welcome to Egal Qui, bela-mah.” Welcome? This room was scarcely less icy than it had been outside. Oil lamps rested on ledges around the room, and reeds were scattered on the floor, but the walls were bare. Bare as a cave. “Sit, please, so that the slaves may remove your plattens.”

Two young girls, dressed in long grey tunics and skirts, hurried forward, silent, heads bent, and knelt before them. They unbuckled the plattens and carried them away. The taller girl glanced at Ninsha as she turned, then dropped her gaze. Hai, if abba had not hidden those few caribou, this could be her and Gazia. Slaves, for ever. The housekeeper stood and watched, arms folded and silent, then said, “Please follow,” and led the way across the hall, up a flight of stone steps and along a stone flagged passage lit with oil lamps on the walls. Were they being taken to a dungeon in this prison? They were captives, yes, everyone must surely know, but surely the sukkal would want to keep the illusion of Lea bela as a guest, if just for appearances?

Hai, her bela was already downcast. Ninsha had never seen her so subdued, her head bowed, her eyes on the stone flags, her feet dragging. Was she realising, at last, what this really meant? Ninsha knew she had the sort of courage that flared up, but did she also have the type that burned as a slow, steady flame? That was what she would need in this grim place.

She reached forward, and touched her bela’s hand. Immediately her bela grasped hers, and held it tightly. Ninsha squeezed back. _Bela, you are not alone. I am here, and I will always be here as long as you need me._ Her bela’s head rose and her steps became firmer, less dragging. This was better: never show weakness to an enemy.

They came to a door, and the housekeeper rapped on it. It opened, and she said, “The Findian bela. Is all ready?”

A male voice, but high pitched and smoky, said, “You gave us little enough time, madam, but we have done our best. We will take her from here.” Again: a thing, to be passed from hand to hand. Not a person. But at least a thing of value, to be treated with care, like an Adamantine vase. But, again also: expected.

The housekeeper stood to one side and gestured for them to go through. The man was tall and thin, with a hairless head, and dressed in a grey robe. “Please to follow me, bela-mah.”

He led the way up a stair and along the corridor. Now, though, the floor was wooden and carpeted, the passage lit by candles on the walls, real wax candles, with woven pictures hanging between them on one side, curtains on the other. They had stepped into another world, of what would pass for luxury in such a place.

This was better, this is what a bela had the right to expect. And they were up, not dungeon-down, for she could hear shutters rattling in the wind, beyond the curtains. They passed four closed wooden doors, then the man stopped and opened the fifth.

“Your quarters, bela-mah.” He gestured for them to enter.

“Thank you. Can you tell me whether another young lady is here? She arrived with the sukkal today.”

“Bela-mah, I cannot. I see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing. I serve only. I am instructed to say, bela-mah, that an audience has been reserved for you with the atu tomorrow at ten of the water-clock.” He gestured into the suite. “We have lit the fires, and provided hot water in the tub. A meal will be served in two figure widths of candle.” He closed the door, and they heard the lock click.

Immediately her bela lent back against the wall, closed her eyes and exhaled. Her shoulders sagged.

Ninsha took her hands. “We are safe now, bela, indoors and alone.”

Her bela gave a little laugh, slightly hysterical. “For now, we are. Oh, Ninsha, I’m beginning to wish I’d heeded your advice. I’m terrified. I never really realised: the isolation, the immensity of it, the cold, hard stone, the door closing behind us. That gibbet …” She shuddered. “Will we ever be allowed out of here?”

Ninsha squeezed her hands. “Bela, we have been travelling all day, long and hard, and in a world which is strange to you. You are tired and cold. It is natural to feel frightened now. Come, bela, once you are bathed and warm, you will feel better.”

 

She did. Sitting curled up on the padded couch, wrapped in a blanket, warmed by the hot bath, and smelling faintly of the orange blossom essence that Ninsha had added to her bathwater, her bela said, “You are so brave, Ninsha. Not only do you keep up your own spirits, but mine also. You must think I am such a coward.”

“Hai, bela, how could I ever think that? Did I not see you stand up to the hammerman in the marketplace when you rescued me? No, bela, I do not, and never would think that. It is your courage that brought you here. Our positions are different, bela, greatly different. You are away from your people, in a foreign land, away even, by many days, from the safety of Amata beltu in Adir. And today you have been travelling through even more remote and savage lands. Anyone would feel frightened so. For me, Aria is my country, and these mountains are more home to me than Adir itself.

“Well, all I can say is that I’m really glad and grateful that you are here with me, but sorry you have to risk yourself.”

“Bela, the risk for me is small. They do not care about me. Also they cannot hold me here unless I so choose. Drop me outside the walls without food or water, bela, and they would never find me. I would be in Umar in two days. I know this, but they do not.”

“That’s comforting, Ninsha, both for you and for me.”

“You may take comfort also, bela, that they are treating you with respect. The eunuch called you ‘bela-mah.’ If their intentions were otherwise, he would not have done so, and we would not be here.”

“What you mean, Ninsha, otherwise?”

They had discussed this, why the sukkal had brought her bela to Qui. Had her bela not followed the thought through to where it must lead? She had realised they were captives, yes. Had she not realised why, in her heart? Ninsha didn’t want to frighten her more. She must explain, but gently. “The atu will have concubines, bela.”

The bela flushed. “A concubine.” She paused, then said, “I suppose that’s the reality, that’s why they brought me here. For the atu.” She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “Everyone always told me my wildness would get me into trouble. And now it has.”

“No, bela, you are not here because of wildness, or silliness, or anything bad. It is honour which has brought you here, bela.”

“Honour.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s such a male concept.”

“Honour, duty, self-sacrifice, love, they all come to the same thing, bela. But what I am saying is that they are treating you with respect. And that must be our defence, that you have the right to be treated with respect, and expect to be treated with respect. Hai, how can they treat one who Amata beltu has called ‘daughter,’ any differently?”

“Ninsha, you are right. It is a flimsy thing to use as a shield, but it is all we have.” She gave a short laugh, then said, “Not that that is new: the expectation, expressed or implied, of honourable behaviour, of decency is, almost always, the only defence that women have against men.” She looked at Ninsha, then said, “That man who brought us here, was he really a eunuch? I’ve only ever heard of them.”

“Yes, bela. Where you get harems, you get eunuchs.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose so. But we are in the guest quarters, aren’t we?”

“We are in the seraglio, bela.”

Her bela’s eyes widened. “Really? How do you know?”

Ninsha waved her hand around. “Everything, bela. Everything is soft, luxurious. The paintings and wallhangings show love scenes, the bed … But most of all, the lover’s door,” and she pointed to a narrow white door. “He comes through there, when he comes for love.”


	16. The Audience

“Oh, look at that!”

They were seated in the audience chamber, a large room with rows of wooden benches against the back wall to one side of the entrance doors, and separate padded chairs on the other. Against the far wall was a low platform with a large carved wooden chair with a high back. Her bela had called the platform a dais, and the chair a Great Chair, and the whole business, Holding Court. To one side of the dais was a table, with several stools scattered around it.

The benches were already crowded, while the chairs, where they were, had a mere four or five people waiting, but all much more richly dressed than those on the benches.

Her bela was not looking at the people, but over their heads, at the top of the walls, where a carved relief ran around just below the ceiling.

“We saw that style in Umar, Ninsha, do you remember?” She did not. She could distinguish about a hundred different ‘bou from each other by their markings, but this architecture? All the styles, all the reliefs and engravings, all the architraves and cornices, arches and pediments, they all ran together in her mind. “It was at the Temple of Enlil, and dated to two hundred and seventy years ago. But the standard of craftsmanship here is superior. And because it is right up at ceiling level, it’s virtually untouched by wear and tear,” and she took out a sketchbook and began to draw it.

A small packet dropped from under her shawl onto the seat next to her.

“Bela?” said Ninsha, pointing to it.

Her bela glanced down. “Oh, they gave me that at the entrance, the traditional present of the supplicant to the atu. Very thoughtful of them, because it hadn’t crossed my mind that I needed one.”

Ninsha picked it up, and held it up to the light.

“It’s the usual white silk scarf, I suppose.”

Not white, she could see that.

She began to tease open a corner of the wrapping.

“Don’t open it, Ninsha, he’ll be here in a moment.”

“It’s not white, bela.”

“Does that matter? A present is a present, surely.”

“It does matter, bela. For you, a young, unmarried woman, a white scarf symbolises purity. Another colour …” And she peered in. Hai! “It’s not white, bela.”

“Oh. What colour is it?”

She wasn’t going to get into that, not here and now. “Another colour, bela, not white.”

Her bela looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Is that colour all right, then?”

“No. It is very much not all right, bela.”

“Oh. Perhaps they gave it to me by mistake. I mean, it’s all wrapped up. They said not to open it.”

“No mistake, bela. No one makes mistakes like this. We must change it.”

“I don’t see how we can, Ninsha. The doors are shut now, everybody is seated and waiting. I can just hand it over, and explain that there seems to have been a mistake.”

Ninsha shut her eyes. Were there no evil people in Findias, that her bela was so trusting?

She looked around. With whom could she trade, and with what? The chairs, where they were, were no good. Rich people trusted no one - that was why they were rich - and would not get involved.

 She stood up and looked at the benches opposite. Mostly old men and women, dressed in their threadbare best, but also men dressed according to their crafts: a cobbler in a leather apron; a cook in white, with a tall hat; a butcher in his white cap and striped apron; a hunter in skins, with a red kerchief around his neck. Yes, the hunter! He would be after the winter furs.

“Bela, your drawing of the silver fox, may I have it?”

The bela raised her eyebrows, but just said, “Of course, Ninsha. Here you are,” and she released it from the pad and gave it to her.

Ninsha rolled it into a scroll, and hurried across to the hunter.

She stopped in front of him, and bowed her head. “Ugula-gar.” The supplicants nearby stared at her.

He rose, and bowed his head in return “Namkisikil.”

“Ugula-gar, you seek permission to hunt the kula-ka’a?”

“I do, namkisikil. Three pelts.”

“You have the gift, the white scarf?”

“I do, the best I could afford.”

“I will give you another in exchange, a gift of more power.”

“How can that be, namkisikil?”

“Look,” and she unrolled the drawing of the fox.

“Hai. Yes, he stands just so, his ears exactly thus, seeking, his legs just so, ready to run, when he turns at a sound. This is the spirit of the kula-ka’a. Yes, this has much power. But it has value greater than I can pay.”

“A trade, ugula-gar. I seek a white scarf. The value is less, yes, but in the desert water is beyond value, so says the sage.”

“To withhold comfort from a child, love from a woman, honour from a man in their time of need is an ill act, so says the sage also.”

She bowed her head. “The ugula-gar is wise and honourable, but the clock approaches midnight. Trade?”

He nodded. “Trade, and debt, namkisikil.”

 

“All rise,” called the guard, rapping his staff on the flagstones as he spoke.

The double doors opened and the atu and a train of grey robed scribes entered and walked through to the dias. First behind the atu was the sukkal. The atu mounted the dias, threw himself into the great chair and closed his eyes. The sukkal turned when he reached the stool next to the great chair, and his eyes scanned across the waiting supplicants. They paused when they reached her bela.

Hai, he must be pleased. There her bela was, where he wanted her, and where she did not want to be. Again Ninsha wondered why he was doing this. Yes, the atu would be pleased, more than pleased, but at the cost of angering Taskarin Adir, the greatest family in the land, not to speak of the Findians, a far more powerful nation than the Arians. One of those alone must weigh a hundred times more on the scale of value than the gratification of the atu of Qui. So, why?

But for now, only the game mattered, not why they were playing. It was the bishop’s move and, having forced the queen’s move to protect her pawn, he was now moving his king. In truth, in the eyes of the sukkal, they were all pawns.

The atu was a tall man with heavy black brows and a hawk nose. He was dressed in a black jacket with gold braid on the shoulders and sleeves, and white trousers tucked into knee high black boots. Amunita bela would have thought he looked wonderful, but Ninsha wondered why he dressed like a pretend robber baron performing at a five mila masque in the Adir marketplace for holding court. Especially as any dramatic effect was lost by the way he slouched in the carved chair.

He had not been told about Lea bela, for he did not even glance in their direction. It must be that the sukkal was planning a surprise. The last group of men to enter were big and burly, and dressed in black. They placed themselves at the far end of the hall, behind the platform. Closest to the atu’s chair was the big faranji Findian. His eyes, too, sought out her bela, and then looked away but, and Ninsha took note, looked back from time to time. Another admirer, as unwanted as the first. Perhaps she could play the gallu off against the atu.

The audiences began. Those from the benches were seen in the order of arrival, but every now and then a scribe would raise his hand, and beckon someone from the chairs where Lea bela and Ninsha were. Each petitioner would approach the dias, giving his gift to a junior scribe who opened it, unfolded the scarf and held it out for inspection. A senior scribe would look at it, write a number on his slate, and hold it up for the sukkal to see. Meanwhile the scarf was passed back and tossed into a woven basket at the rear. From there, Ninsha knew, the scarves would make their way back to the temples, to be sold again. If there was money to be made, the temple would be there.

The petitioner would then approach the dias, and another scribe would stand next to him with a sand hourglass timer. The hourglass timers varied in size from large to small, giving correspondingly long or short times for the petitioner to present his plea. When the sand ran out, the hourglass scribe would stop the petitioner, midsentence if need be, and take him or her to what Ninsha could only call a holding pen, except that it held people, not caribou.

A senior scribe would confer with the sukkal, who would then confer with the atu. He would then, usually, nod, and wave the case away. A junior scribe, who had been listening, would then go across to the pen, tell the petitioner the outcome, and lead the petitioner away, out of the room. The old and the poor, by far the greater number, were given the smallest timers, and, judging by the drooping heads and sagging shoulders, most frequently had their petitions rejected.

Two women were led, weeping, from the room. What are their petitions been about? Appeals for clemency for a son caught poaching for the family pot? A request for hay from a mountain field to feed the family ’bou through the winter?

The atu sat sprawled in his chair, his chin resting on a cupped hand, the elbow on the armrest. His eyes were frequently closed, his gestures of agreement lazy and dismissive. Amata beltu said he was loved by his men, but Ninsha could see that he must be despised by his people.

The petitioners from their side, the wealthy petitioners, usually had their petition granted, but one, a burly young man, well-dressed and confident in his petition, was unhappy with the decision, and broke away from the scribe, turning to approach the atu again.

Immediately the gallu and two other men surged to their feet, grabbed the man and hurried him from the hall.

“Fool,” said the man next to them. “All he has done is earn himself a fine, if not a beating as well.”

How would her hunter’s petition go? Gifts other than scarves were rare, and usually of far greater value. How would the scribes react to a few lines on a piece of paper? The hunter had accepted the exchange willingly, but she would feel guilty if his petition were rejected. Would a scribe see the ‘spirit of fox’ which had been clear to her and the hunter?

She watched when his time came. He passed the rolled up sketch to the junior scribe, who looked at it, then passed it to the more senior scribe. He too, paused and looked at it. The atu, irritated by the delay, snapped his fingers, and held out his hand for it.

He glanced at it, then exclaimed, and looked more closely. The sukkal gave it one glance, and immediately lifted his eyes to where her bela sat. The atu gestured to the hunter to come forward, and questioned him. The hunter turned, and pointed to Ninsha. The atu’s eyes followed the gesture.

The effect was immediate. His eyes never leaving her bela’s face, his chin came off his hand, and he straightened in his chair. He waved a hand to stop the hunter’s words, and spoke out of the corner of his mouth to the sukkal. The sukkal rose and spoke into the atu’s ear. The atu gestured towards her bela, and the sukkal shook his head, and gestured towards all the other petitioners waiting. The atu slumped back in his chair, glanced at the hunter, nodded twice and waved him away. His petition had been granted.

But her poor bela: from the moment the hunter had pointed at them, all eyes had been on her, murmurs running round the room. Lea bela, a tide of red rising over her face, fixed her eyes on a far window.

The sukkal waved to the scribes to continue with the petitions. They did, but it soon became apparent that the atu wanted a quicker pace. He would beckon a petitioner up, listen for a few seconds, nod, granting the petition, and wave the petitioner away. His eyes were never away from her bela for long. The sukkal sat back, a sardonic smile on his face and the scribes, reading their master’s mood, hurried the petitioners along, scarcely looking at the scarves before tossing them into the basket.

And then it was their turn. As she followed her bela to the dias, she could see that she was trembling. All this because of an empty headed girl who had read too many love stories. If the beltu knew the trap that her foolish great-niece had led the faranj bela into, what would she do? Have the girl whipped? She, Ninsha, would, yes. But at least give her a tongue lashing the girl would remember for the rest of her days.

Everyone, but everyone in the chamber was staring at her bela. The petitioners, the enforcers, the scribes, the sukkal and, of course, the atu. Her bela knew that, and she walked defiantly, back straight and head held high. But all this did was to accentuate her elegance, her height, her slimness, her long, slender neck. As she turned to give the scarf to the scribe, Ninsha could see her face was white, but the colour high in her cheeks. Hai, the whole effect was to show off her beauty even more, the last thing they needed with the atu.

The scribe opened the package, and shook out the scarf. The slight smile on the sukkal’s face vanished, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her bela.

So now Ninsha knew beyond doubt where the scarf had come from, and what she must expect from him: foul, underhand manipulation. It was strange: she would have expected more subtlety from a man like the sukkal. How could he think that tricking a maiden like her bela unknowingly into making such a suggestive gesture to a man who would woo her, would advance his master’s suit? It might inflame the atu’s passion but how could it help to brand her innocent bela as lower than a common slut? Truly, this must be a game within a game within a game.

No such reaction from the atu: he was innocent of this, at least. He stood, bowed, and said, “Lady Lea, welcome my city. It is very rare that we see such flowers so high in the mountains. Had I known of your presence here, your reception would have been very different. To what to I owe this delight?”

Her bela curtsied, and the atu’s brows went up at such an exotic, feminine gesture. Hai, they were not supposed to be entrancing him, but the opposite. And when he heard her sweet, low voice …

“Atu-en, thank you for your welcome. I arrived after dark last night, and had been taken care of perfectly well, thank you. I have come to your city because my ward, the great-niece of Amata beltu Taskarin of Adir, has come here without my leave. I have come to find her and take her back to Umar. I ask your help in this, atu-en.”

“My cousin?” He turned to the sukkal. “My cousin has come to Qui?”

“She has, atu-en. She came yesterday, with me. I have put her in safe quarters, and was going to tell you at a convenient time.”

“And did she leave this lady’s protection? Why would she do such a thing?”

The sukkal spread his hands. “I do not know, atu-en. I had the good fortune to meet lady Lea on a journey from Adir to Umar, and fail to understand why anyone should wish to leave her company. But when Miss Amunita joined our little group to come to Qui, I believed that the lady Lea would be following shortly afterwards.”

“Why would you believe that, sukkal-mah,” said her bela, “when I specifically told you on the journey, that I could not come to Qui. I find it incomprehensible that a man of honour, knowing that, could allow Amunita bela to accompany him.”

“I find it incomprehensible, lady Lea, that you did not wish not come to Qui, with its beauty and architectural heritage.”

“As I told you, sukkal-mah, I gave my word to Amata beltu Taskarin to not go beyond Umar.”

“And why was that, lady Lea?”

“With respect, the ‘why’, sukkal-mah, is irrelevant. All that is relevant is that I did give it, and have now been forced to break it. May I ask why Amunita bela was allowed to accompany you?”

The sukkal spread his hands. “She wished to visit her cousin.”

“Would it not have been the correct procedure to have asked me, considering she was in my guardianship?”

“A difficult legal point, lady Lea. You are not a relative, either by blood or marriage. The atu is. And your attention in Umar was engaged elsewhere, was it not, visiting the sites of antiquity.”

Her bela drew up. “Amunita bela was with, was supposed to be with, her family in Umar, all the time. I saw her morning and night.”

“Oh, I did not mean to imply neglect, lady Lea, not at all. The lady Lea,” and he turned to the atu, “is a learned scholar, an ethnologist of ancient buildings, as well as a talented artist.”

“I can well believe,” said the atu, “that a lady of such beauty would be talented also, and would be delighted to see her work.”

Her bela inclined her head, and said, “The sukkal is very flattering, atu-en, but I’m nothing more than a draughtsman and sketcher.”

The atu laughed. “A draughts-woman, lady Lea, if you must. No one could ever mistake you for a draughts-man.”

“Did I not see your sketching here, this morning, lady Lea?” said the sukkal. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to show at least that sketch to the atu.”

A slight frown crossed her bela’s brow, but she took out the sketchbook, opened it and passed it to the atu.

Holding it in his hand, he looked from the sketch to the room, back and forth, several times. “Hai, you have captured it so well, lady Lea. See, my sukkal, there is the running spiral, there the leaves, there the spray of flowers. Here, in a detail, the petals, and there, ah, a mouse. Did you see a mouse on my wall, lady Lea?”

Her bela smiled. “No, atu-en, that is just to give the scale, and a bit of fun.”

“Ah. You like fun, lady Lea?”

The smile vanished. “At the right time and place, atu-en. Not when I am working. My purpose this morning is my petition.”

“Yes,” said the sukkal, “your petition, lady Lea. I was surprised, more than surprised, to see a work of your art presented by the hunter, with his petition. How came that to be, lady Lea?”

“There seemed to be, sukkal-mah, a misunderstanding, a mixup with the gifts. The hunter was pleased to exchange his for my little sketch.”

“Do you know what the mixup was, lady Lea?”

Hai, were there no depths to which this man would not sink?

“Not in any detail, sukkal-mah. Why do you ask?”

“Merely curious, lady Lea. Was it you who spoke to the hunter?”

Her bela hesitated, then said, “No, it was my maid.”

The sukkal gave Ninsha an intense stare. She met his eyes for a moment before she lowered her own. So now, they knew each other, the weak and lowly lady’s maid, and the high and powerful sukkal. He knew that she knew that he was trying to foully dishonour her mistress with one hand and to offer her up to the atu with the other. He knew that she would protect her mistress if she possibly could. He would not see her as a threat, no: she was a female, a young female and a servant, and so as insignificant as a person could get. But she had crossed him, and he would grind her under his heel if she gave him the opportunity.

Then the atu laughed and said, “I am very happy to be the owner of one of lady Lea’s works, and care not how it came into my possession,” and he gave her bela such an intense look that she dropped her gaze. The meaning was clear: it was not just her sketches he wished to own.

Her bela raised her eyes, and in a determined voice said, “Atu-en, I thank you for your courtesy, but my petition here is to request that Amunita bela be returned to my care so that we may return to Umar in accordance with the wishes of Amata beltu Taskarin. Will you grant this petition?”

“Lady Lea,” the sukkal spoke before the atu could reply. “The atu of Qui is a kind and generous man, and will be disposed to immediately grant the petition of such a beautiful and high-born young lady. However, there is another high-born young lady involved, and we must hear what she says. I shall speak to her and tomorrow we may discuss this further.” He spread his hands. “It is all we can do at this time, lady Lea, and other petitioners are waiting. Tomorrow, lady Lea, if I may so request, please announce yourself to the official at the door. He will arrange for you to be taken to a private chamber. There is no need for you to wait here, with everyone’s eyes upon you, like a common peasant.”

“That is not necessary, sukkal-mah. If I am to present a petition, I should present it like everyone else. I do not hold myself to be above a common peasant.”

“Do you not, lady Lea? But you are superior, whether you hold yourself so or not. Besides, the atu having now shown you attention, it would reflect poorly on his hospitality should you do so again.”

She inclined her head. “Should this be the atu’s wish…”

“Oh, yes, it is,” said the atu. He looked at the petitioners waiting, and scowled.

“Perhaps, atu-en,” said the sukkal, “you would like me to deal with the rest of the petitioners? Then you would be free to escort the lady Lea to the Temple of Enki. He turned to her bela. “As Qui is the jewel of the Elluria, so is the Temple of Enki the jewel of Qui. Your talents, lady Lea, could be put to great effect there, as elsewhere. A drawing of such a building could form the flower of your portfolio.”

“As, truth be told,” said the atu, “the lady Lea herself would form the flower of Qui. It would be my pleasure, lady Lea, to escort you to the Temple of Enki. No doubt you will need to prepare. I shall await you in the entrance hall.”

 

“Well, Ninsha, we didn’t achieve all we wanted, but we made progress, I think. Tomorrow should resolve it, and we can return to Umar the following day. I really don’t see how Amunita can put forward any argument that can outweigh the fact that her great-aunt put her into my care.”

Ninsha was silent. Did her bela really think that what was right carried any weight in the Citadel of Qui?

“Ninsha?” Her bela was looking at her. “What is your opinion, Ninsha?”

“My opinion has not changed, bela.”

“Oh, but the atu was so gallant. I didn’t like his attempts at flattery, but he seems very gentlemanly. The sukkal was trying to catch me out, yes, but it was all very polite.”

“Yes, bela, for now. The sukkal will continue so for as long as he sees any advantage in it, his words polite, his actions the opposite. The atu,” she shook her head. “He is captivated by you, bela.”

“Do you really think so? But I didn’t do anything to encourage him. Quite the opposite.”

“Bela, you don’t need to do anything. Just being yourself is enough.” Beautiful, slim, and the manners of a lady? Men would flock like moths to flame.

“But what can I do then?”

Almost nothing. We are in the trap, and the teeth are closing. “Resist, bela. The atu will push, more and more. You must resist, not give a hairsbreadth more than you can help. Remember always that beneath the silken wrapping are the iron jaws.”

“But how, Ninsha? How should I resist?”

“It will come naturally to you, bela, because of who and what you are.”

“I suppose that might be a compliment, Ninsha, but I would rather you were more specific.”

“You are a lady, bela. Everything about you marks you out as such. So you must not allow yourself to be treated otherwise. Insist that all behaviour must be correct according to polite society. Allow no liberties. Make it clear you expect the atu to behave like a gentleman and he will feel obliged to live up to that.” She hoped. But what other way was there?

 

The atu bowed as Lea bela walked down the hall towards him. “Ah, lady Lea, you look exquisite. Shall we walk? Your maid need not come. I have a man going ahead to clear the way.” He held out his arm for her to take, in the Findian manner.

Lea bela inclined her head. “I thank you, atu-en, but my maid always accompanies me. And I make a point of always abiding by the customs of the country I am in. Even in Findias that would preclude me from taking your arm on so short an acquaintance.”

He bowed again, saying, “Your delicacy is charming, my dear lady. It is of course just is you please.” But his jaws had tensed in annoyance.

And so they walked, a footman ahead, then the atu and Lea bela, then Ninsha, then a footman behind. Out of the carved cedarwood doors, across the paved courtyard, through another pair of doors and into the cobbled street.

“Qui was originally built, lady Lea, to guard the pass of Qui, which links Hakkan with Aria, and is hence a principal trade route. Four hundred years ago the area was rife with banditry.”

From Ninsha’s experience, it still was, though now the bandits lived in the citadel. And she was sure that Lea bela knew far more about the history of Qui than the atu himself.

“Enki, lady Lea, whose temple we are going to see, is the god of wisdom. Our sukkal is a high priest of that temple, and is a wise man. I am fortunate in having him, as he and his priests take care of the administration of the citadel, leaving me free for my main task, the defence of the pass against the Hakkan. And today I’m particularly fortunate, as his competence leaves me free to escort you to see the wonders of Qui.”

They entered the market square. It was as busy as the marketplace in Adir, but the people seemed far poorer, their clothing worn and patched where it was not tattered. Children ran about dressed in rags and without shoes, in spite of the cold. Beggars sat or stood, some on crutches, on every corner. In Adir, too, there was a constant clamour voices, with men calling their wares, shouting to others, arguing about prices. Here the people seemed quieter, subdued, almost cowed. Just the ringing chime of a hammer on an anvil, and even that fell silent after a few moments.

Was this the outcome of the sukkal’s ‘competence’? Poverty and neglect? Apprehension; no, worse: fear. Did the atu not see it?

As soon as the atu’s party was noticed a buzz of sound spread through the marketplace. A watchful silence followed, broken only by the barking of dogs and the lowing of caribou in their pens. The crowd parted as atu’s party moved forward, men, women and children scrambling to get out of the way, turning to watch when they had reached a safe distance. All were careful not to catch the eye of the atu or his men, but all, all stared at her bela, and even Ninsha received many looks, quickly withdrawn when she returned them. Even when faces appeared at the windows overlooking the marketplace, they vanished when she looked up at them. Hai, were these people frightened of her? Of a small, fourteen-year-old girl?

Some were too slow in moving themselves, or had not heard the rumour of the atu’s coming, and the footman in front thrust them out of the way. A baker’s boy carrying a tray of bread was sent sprawling on the cobbles, his loaves scattered and fouled by slime. A crippled beggar, swinging away on his crutches, slipped in his haste and fell against a fruit cart, bringing down a shower of apples and pears, and the curses and blows of the trader. A lame, mangy dog took a blow from a staff, and scampered away on three legs, yelping. Was this what life was like in Qui? Was this how they lived?

When she was little, living on the tundra, she had envied those living in the stone cities. Lying at night in the family tent on her bed of bracken and caribou skins, watching the embers of the fire, she had thought how wonderful it would be to be a girl living in a place like Qui, in a house with stone walls, a wooden floor, a slate roof, strong and solid against the wind, the rain and the snow, instead of, as she had, just one thickness of ‘bou hide.

Now she saw the price they paid. They were like beaten dogs. She was lucky to have been born a nomad, a despised tundra girl.

When the footman shouldered aside a ragged young woman carrying a child so that she stumbled and fell, Ninsha saw her bela pluck at the atu’s sleeve, and speak to him. The atu turned to her in surprise, then called out to the footman. The brute turned, and Ninsha saw his face. Of course, it was the gallu.

He walked back to the atu, bowed, listened to what the atu told him, then bowed again and returned to his position. They went forward again, but now the gallu cleared the way with his voice, raising the staff as a threat but not using it.

In a little square before the Temple, Ninsha set up her bela’s little folding stool and easel, and then, when Lea bela seated herself, quickly stepped behind her before the atu could. Her bela turned to look at her with raised eyebrows, and she held up the array of pencils and erasers in her hand, saying, “I have them here, bela, ready to pass to you, on your instructions.”

When, a little later, the atu told Ninsha to step aside so he could see her bela’s drawing better, her bela had risen, and picking up the easel, had held up the drawing for him to see.

“Ah, delightful, lady Lea, truly delightful. But I do not mean to stop your work. If the girl gets out of the way, I can stand behind you and look without disturbing you.”

Her bela bowed her head. “Atu-en, that would be a good idea except for the fact that I need Ninsha in that place so she can pass me the equipment as my need arises.”

“She can stand to one side.”

“An excellent proposal, atu-en, except that, as you see, I sometimes sketch with one hand, then the other. So having her behind me is best. And really, atu-en, I’m quite ready to stop sketching, and to show you at any time should you wish to see, even though it breaks the concentration and the flow of the sketching. I don’t mind, really. It just takes a little while to get back into it, that is all.”

The atu gave a stiff bow and said, unsmiling, “It is as you wish, lady Lea. My sole purpose is for you to enjoy being in Qui.”

She curtsied back. “Thank you, atu-en. Being able to sit and quietly sketch does bring benefit to my stay, to my visit, to your city. But now it grows a little cold. Perhaps we could return to the palace, atu-en, if that is convenient to you.”

 

“Ninsha, this is silly. Why won’t you sit down and eat with me? I think-” her bela stopped when Ninsha raised a finger to her lips.

“Thank you, bela, the silky cloth worked very well today.” Ninsha spoke loudly. “I don’t think the muscle needs for me to sit down and beat it again. My foot hardy hurts at all today.” Her bela frowning at her in confusion, Ninsha walked round behind her and whispered into her ear. “We must watch our words, Lea bela. From now on, we may be spied on, listened to. I may not sit at your table, bela, because you are a lady, and a lady’s maid does not eat at her mistress’s table.”

“All right.” Her bela spoke in a soft voice. “We’ll do it your way. But already you are more than a maid to me, Ninsha. I wanted to ask you: that scarf in the audience chamber, what was so bad about it that you had to get another one?”

“Oh, bela, do you really want to know? It is not good.”

“Even more, in that case, Ninsha. Cultural details are important.”

“It is red, bela.” Ninsha took it from her pocket, unfolded it and held it up.

“So I see. Why would a red scarf be all right for the hunter but not for me? I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

“You made no mistake, Lea bela. That scarf was given to you deliberately to send a strong, misleading message to the atu. The red signifies blood, bela, and so from a hunter is appropriate, for hunters shed blood. But from a woman, it is appropriate only on one occasion in her whole life, the day she marries, as an offering to her husband.”

“I don’t understand. In our culture, she gives him a ring.”

Hai, her bela’s trusting nature. She would have to spell it out. “This is for every culture, bela, for every woman, for every bride, for they all give the same. She gives him herself. The red signifies what will happen on the wedding night.”

Her bela went white, then red. “In front of the whole audience chamber,” she whispered. “The scribes, the petitioners… all Qui would hear about it. What a despicable thing to do.” She looked at Ninsha. “The sukkal is my enemy.”

“Yes, Lea bela, but if I may say: our enemy, bela.”

Her bela rose, and taking Ninsha’s head in her hands, kissed her brow. “You have helped me so much already, Ninsha.”

Her heart swelled. Who had ever kissed her? Her grandmother, her mother and her sister. And her father, when she was a child. And now this faranj maiden. Was she now part of her family? Certainly here, they had no one but each other. So they must look after each other. She must look after her bela, against the atu and the sukkal.

So: why had the sukkal attempted the red scarf? The atu would have taken it as an invitation, and when he was repulsed by her shocked bela, either force his attentions on her, or be angry with her for misleading him. At the least it would have inflamed his passions, making him behave in a far more forward manner than otherwise, and Lea bela would have been the more revolted by him. It would cause conflict. Not that there could ever be anything else between them: a man for whom women were objects of desire; a woman who demanded respect as an individual.

Was conflict the sukkal’s aim? It made no sense to bring her here for him, then drive them apart.


	17. The second audience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor revision to Chapter 7

Had it been a mistake to tell her bela about the scarf? To a woman of Aria the sukkal’s foul trick would have been regarded with shock and dismay too, but accepted as the way things were. How else could anyone expect a man to treat a woman, especially a powerful man like a sukkal? Women were mere game pieces, to be moved here and there by their men. When they petitioned a man, it was humbly, and even if the object of the petition was clearly their right, it was granted as a gracious favour. Or rejected, if the whim so took the man with power. So a woman of Aria would respond to what the sukkal had done by treading even more carefully around him.

But would that be the effect on her bela? The sukkal had attacked her virtue, her reputation, that most vulnerable and closely guarded part of a woman, and had done so, or tried, by a foul trick. He, without honour, had attacked her honour. How would she respond in return? Ninsha did not know, but she was sure it would not be as a woman of Aria. Even before, her replies to the sukkal had been direct, less than feminine by Arian standards, but still gentle. But then she had respected him, now she did not. Now she felt the scorn and disdain of the open and honest for those who use lies and manipulation. Her fastidious nature was revolted by his despicable attempt at dishonouring her. Had she been a man, she would have challenged him to a duel, in the Findian way, Ninsha was sure. What would she do as a woman?

Her bela had been quiet as they had breakfasted and prepared for the audience, but by now Ninsha knew her mistress well enough to realise she was gathering her courage for a confrontation.

She entered the audience room pale, but with chin held high, and sat down, merely nodding at the sukkal’s greeting, and bowing her head to the atu.

The sukkal opened the audience. “Well, lady Lea, I have spoken to Miss Amunita, and she maintains she was not put under your wardship, that even if she was, it was only for the duration of the journey, and that in any event, even if she was not of age in Adir and Umar, she is of age in Qui, where adulthood starts at fourteen.” He spread his hands, sat back, and smiled at her.

Her bela’s nostrils flared, and, looking straight at him, she said, “Sukkal-mah, this is sophistry. Firstly, it is not credible that an adolescent girl came up with those arguments, particularly that adolescent girl. Her mind runs on boys, clothes and gossip. She is not capable of it.

“But even accepting those arguments as her justification, all are false. You say she denies the wardship. But she acknowledged it while travelling, on the journey from Adir to Umar. She attended lessons which she did not wish to attend, and when I told her she must stop seeing Ishimud Gautian, she did so. So she cannot now deny the wardship. Secondly, even if the wardship did not apply in Umar, it applied as soon as she left, for she was again travelling. Thirdly, the age of majority. The place where she was taken from my protection was Umar, and the vicinity of Umar, so the customs and laws of Umar apply, not those of Qui. Those arguments are all sham, unsupported in law and custom.”

Both sukkal and atu stared at her, and even Ninsha was shocked. For a woman, even a bela, to answer any man, and particularly a man of the status of the sukkal, in such a manner was unheard of. And with such legalistic logic: her bela had taken the arguments one by one and demolished them, as in a court of law, and done so in such a way to show her contempt of both arguments and the man who had offered them. This she was sure had never happened before, not even in Adir, let alone Qui. Hai, she had wondered how her bela would respond. Now she knew: she had taken his lies, torn them up, and flung them in his face. Dramatic, yes, but wise? And ‘sophistry’: she must look up that in her book of words.

How would the sukkal react to such a direct challenge? He must, or lose face before his master and the two scribes making the record of the audience – or who should have been, but were now staring open-mouthed at her bela. And before Ninsha herself, of course, but a maid servant was of less importance than a beggar in the street.

But before the sukkal could recover from the astonishment he must surely feel, the atu said, “The lady Lea has clearly added the study of law to her other talents, my sukkal. Her arguments sound very reasonable to me. How would you answer the points she has made?”

Before the sukkal could speak, her bela said, “Atu-en, your sukkal promised me that the matter would be resolved today, but all that has happened is that he has developed frivolous arguments on the back of what he said yesterday. I regret to say that I have no confidence in the sukkal to do anything but prevaricate and delay. May I ask you, atu-en, to look into this yourself? The beltu of Adir is your kinswoman, after all, and the girl is your cousin.”

Another challenge to the sukkal. She would sweep him from her path. If such a bloodless creature could hate, he must surely hate her bela.

The atu inclined his head to her. “Lady Lea, you are right. I have been too busy with other matters to see my cousin yet, but I shall make a point of doing so this afternoon, after our visit to the Temple of Nergal.”

“I thank you, atu-en. Would it be possible for you to see her now, and we may visit the temple afterwards?”

“She is at her devotions, in the Temple of Ninhursag,” said the sukkal. His voice was flat, his face expressionless, but his eyes were narrowed as he stared at her. Watchful, as a jackal, already scratched once, watches a cat.

Her bela’s chin lifted. “Indeed? That is surprising, sukkal-mah. On the journey to Umar and in Umar itself, Amunita bela never showed the slightest interest in making her devotions, to the Mother Earth goddess or any of the pantheon of gods.”

“Do you doubt my word, lady Lea?”

“Why should you think that, sukkal-mah? Have you given me any reason to doubt your word? Any reason to believe that you are anything other than an honourable and honest man who would never stoop to underhand and despicable acts?”

Hai! This was indeed a duel, a duel of wits, no, more, for her bela showed her disdain of the sukkal in every phrase. Her bela was impetuous in love, and impetuous in hate. But was it wise? In Ninsha’s short life she had learned that one must make judgements and reach conclusions, but that those conclusions are best kept to oneself and acted on, if at all, inconspiciously. Did the little dik-dik challenge the jackal?

The atu laughed out loud. “A deep question, my sukkal. Have you ever given the lady Lea reason to think that? Others, perhaps, but the lady Lea?” He laughed again, but the sukkal just gazed, expressionless but with half-hooded eyes, at her bela. Hai, the scorpion, poised to strike.

The atu turned to her bela. “Lady Lea, I shall enquire immediately on our return from the Temple of Nergal whether my little cousin has completed her devotions, and you shall see her.” He rose. “Come, enough time on this. Let us go to the temple. Is it necessary that your maid accompanies us again?”

“Why, yes, atu-en. She has learned to prepare the pencils to the right sharpness, and to anticipate my needs. It is difficult to work effectively if one’s train of thought is continually broken. By having to ask for specific pencils, I mean.”

“Very well. If she must.”

 

Again the gallu walked in front, and again, as soon as they reach the crowded marketplace, began thrusting people aside. This was strange, after his reprimand yesterday. Her bela too seem surprised, for Ninsha saw her speak to the atu. He turned to her and replied, and immediately the bela dropped her gaze. They walked on and the gallu seemed almost to go out of his way to assault people.

Then he pushed an old woman to the ground, and her bela stopped, faced the atu, and spoke again. He looked back at her, and shrugged. Then he held out his arm. Her bela glanced once more into his face, then, her head down, linked her arm into his.

The atu called out, and the gallu turned, bowed, then turned back and walked on, this time more slowly, giving the market people time to get out of his way.

Hai! Gallu would be the right name for the atu also. ‘Do you wish me to stop the Findian thug from abusing the people? Then let me touch you: take my arm.’ And of course her bela would. If he could not get his way by persuasion, he would try coercion. And for now his coercion was for little things, but for how long?

And more: a man who would harm his own people in order to gain such an shameful advantage over a woman? What sort of a ruler was that? She already knew the answer: a ruler who was so blind that he could not see the misery caused by the man he left to do the task he should have been doing himself. Not only blind but stupid, for he was earning, justly, the hatred of his people.

They were just about to leave the market square when a party entered from a side street. A heavily built footman was followed by four girls holding the posts of a canopy. Under the canopy was a tall woman, quite as tall as her bela, but older, dressed in fine cotton robes, and wearing a headdress from which dangled discs of mother-of-pearl. She saw them, gave a command and her little procession stopped. She bowed to the atu, but her eyes were fixed on Lea bela. The atu bowed back, and so did her bela.

Ninsha moved up close behind her bela, in case she should be needed. Her bela made a movement, as if to withdraw her arm, but the atu clamped it against his side. Devil! The atu was making her bela look a slut. Would this beltu realise that Lea bela’s behaviour was the atu’s doing? Perhaps so, perhaps not, but in either case her bela would be blamed, because that was how these things worked.

The parties passed each other, the beltu’s chin held high, her face white and hard, her eyes ahead, while Lea bela’s cheeks were scarlet, her head bowed, her gaze on the ground.

“Who was that?” her bela asked softly, and quietly the atu said, “Just a lady of the court.”

Lies! A lady of the court, yes, but not ‘just’. A lady of the seraglio, a lady of the bedchamber. A beltu, clearly, and probably the first wife to the atu. How many times had she been supplanted? Was it five or six? As her face showed, the pain became no less. And neither would her retribution on the newest wife.

 

The afternoon did not go well, not for any of them. Having forced Lea bela to walk arm in arm with him, he now wanted more. He wanted to stand close to her, and look at her, and touch her shoulder when she was sketching. But her bela was resisting. When he stood in front of her, she would say he was in her line of sight; when he stood close, that he was crowding her; when he stared at her, that he was distracting her and she could not concentrate. When he tried to stand behind her, Ninsha would move only if he actually touched her. When, angered, he threatened to have whipped, her bela raised her eyes and said, “You would punish my maid, atu-en, for doing what I tell her, for standing where I tell her, and handing me my pencils?”

How much longer could they go on like this? Her bela’s surrender today had been won by violence. How long before he realised that her bela would not be won by forcing her to submit; indeed, would not be won by anything? How long before he realised that she would be his only if he took her against her will? And then, how long before he did so? The atu was not accustomed to being thwarted, and his annoyance and frustration was growing.

 

The return to the egal was at a swift walk, the people of the marketplace scrambling to get out of their way, her bela’s hand clamped to the atu’s arm by his hand, his face set, hers downcast. But once there, he took them to the small audience chamber, and two young women were waiting.

“Amunita!” and her bela ran forward with open arms, kissed her on both cheeks and hugged her. “Oh, Amunita dear, I’m so pleased to see you.” She held the girl at arms’ length and looked at her. “How are you, dear? We’ve missed you. Are you all right? You look thin, Amunita dear. Have you been eating?”

Amunita had looked sullen and defiant when they had come in, no doubt expecting the tongue lashing she deserved. Now, touched by the warm and affectionate greeting, the silly girl’s eyes were wet.

“I am well, thank you, Lea bela. I am sorry I ran away.” What speeches of justification had she planned, all to be swept away by Lea bela’s loving nature. But it would take more than ‘sorry’ to get them out of the trap her foolishness had landed them in.

“Oh, that’s all right, Amunita dear. Ibba,” and her bela held out her hand to the maid, “we are glad to see you too, both safe.” She looked back at Amunita. “Now that we are together again we can arrange our return to Umar, then Adir. I think the sooner we are at home, the happier we will be.”

Behind them, the atu cleared his throat, and Lea bela turned.

“Lady Lea, as you see I have kept my word, and you are reunited with your ward.”

“Atu-en, you have fulfilled your promise, as an honourable man would. Thank you.” She held out her hand to him, and gave him a brilliant smile. His eyes widening, he took her hand in both of his. Hai, she had never responded to him like this before. And certainly, would never again. “May we,” she went on, “make arrangements for our return to Umar as soon as possible?”

His face darkened. “Now you are together again, lady Lea, there is no urgency in discussing visits to Umar.”

She pulled her hand away. “Visits? I-”

He raised his hand to stop her. “I have arranged for my cousin’s rooms to be next to yours, lady Lea, and the door opened between the two suites. That is something, is it not?”

This time her bela’s smile was forced. “Thank you, atu-en, but still-”

He raised his hand again. “Tomorrow, lady Lea, we will visit the Temple of Anki, and we can discuss Umar then, perhaps. I have done much, and can do no more at this time.”

The bela’s head was bowed. “Thank you, atu-en, for what you have done.”

“And tomorrow, lady Lea, my cousin and her maid will accompany us. You will not need your maid. She can stay and …” he waved a hand, “do her mending.”

Her bela’s head came up, and she stared at him. “Oh, but-”

“Surely, lady Lea, you do not require more than three attendants? Between us we should be able to manage your pencils, don’t you think? No, tomorrow your maid remains here.”

“As you wish, atu-en.” Her bela’s voice was flat and lifeless.


	18. The beltu bursuma

This was one of the many good things about being a nobody. With Lea bela, she had not been allowed into the seraglio garden. Even the shutters of their window overlooking the garden had been locked. Alone, she was ignored. She’d simply come down a flight of stairs from their rooms, opened a narrow trellis gate, and found herself in the garden. A eunuch at the main gate at the far end had glanced at her and turned away.

She followed the gravel path around the little hedged border of the patch of mountain flowers, sat down next to the fountain, took the torn muslin blouse from the bag, and threaded her needle. She was behind on her mending, not that it was any business of the atu’s. She wondered how her bela was coping with him, now that she was not there to help. Badly, she was sure. Amunita and Ibba would be no help at all.

She hadn’t done twenty stitches when she heard the crunching of footsteps on the gravel behind her. A voice said, “So this is the ghost’s maid. Odd that so pale a creature should have so sallow a servant.”

“Odd that the faranja should be as tall and skinny as a bean pole, and her servant as squat as a toad.”

“Odd that her hair should be as red as a rusty plough, and her servant’s as black as Agammu mud.”

Ninsha had heard about the bitchiness of the seraglio, the maids reflecting their mistress’s insecurities, jostling and scratching for position in the harem, for favour with their lord and master. And here she was, representing the latest favourite. Head down, she went on with her stitching. There was a rustling sound, and a shoe prodded her. She turned and looked up, slowly.

Three young women stood there, dressed in the cream and blue of ladies’ maids. One had a baby, fretful and grizzling, on her hip.

“Well, girl? Cat got your tongue?”

Ninsha looked at them, one after the other. Then she held up three fingers. “Three cats.”

“Oh, how droll. She comes from a weaver shop in the slums of Adir and thinks she can be funny in Qui."

“She comes with a faranja from Findias, and thinks she can be as sharp as her mistress’s nose.”

“She comes-”

“Hai, you!” A querulous voice from a first-floor window nearby. “The witty trio, yes? Have you clever girls no work to do, no mending of your own? If not, my stables need cleaning.”

“Dragon,” muttered one of the maids.

“What’s that, girl? I may have a face like a shelled walnut, but my ears still work. You know the way to my stables well, that I know. My ears work there too, and you can tell that faranji gallu to give rein to his passion a little more quietly next time he rolls you in the hay in my loft.”

“Hai!” And the maid covered her face with both hands.

“Yes, girl. Discretion, a virtue that none of you ever seem to learn. Leave that girl alone, it’s not her fault her mistress is the moon maiden. Be off, all of you. And give the baby to the new girl. She cannot possibly do a worse job than you lot.”

“Here, moon maiden’s maid.” The girl thrust the baby at her. “Better get some practice. You’ll need it in nine months, and the atu will have a new favourite in his bed. His name is Souda. Or,” under her breath, “brat.”

Hai. Did the whole of Qui know about the atu’s pursuit of her bela? Were they also expecting that outcome? She supposed so. She would be, in their place.

The baby looked up at her and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Instinctively Ninsha pulled it out. “No, Souda, you will get ’bou teeth if you do that.”

Deprived of his comfort, the baby began to whimper. Ninsha hoisted him to her shoulder, saying, “You are a big boy, aren’t you? Shall I run off with you into the mountains and tell the atu I’ll exchange you for my bela? What do you think, Souda-Souda-Souda? Will the atu deal? Or will he say he’ll keep the moon maiden, such are scarce, and I can keep the little fat boy, plenty more where he came from. Which, Souda-Souda-Souda, is unfortunately true.” The whimpering became a grizzle, and she said, “Kidnapping doesn’t appeal, Souda-Souda-Souda? It doesn’t to us, either. Please tell your abba.”

The grizzling became louder, and she said, “All right, baby, let us try a song.”

 

_Let me sing to you of summer_

_when the tundra hums in song_

_the ‘bou grass thick and plenty_

_and the calves grow tall and strong_

_Let me sing to you of autumn_

_when south the ‘bou herd moves_

_the air is filled with lowing_

_and the tundra thrums with hooves_

 

The baby had stopped grizzling, and was staring at her. “You like nomad lullabies, Souda-Souda-Souda? Better than stone city songs of conquest by brute force?” The baby stuck his thumb in his mouth again, and Ninsha pulled it out. “No, Souda-Souda-Souda. ’Bou teeth, remember?” The baby’s lips turned down, so she started on the third verse.

 

_Let me sing to you of winter-_

 

Above her, a shutter banged open. An old woman stared down at her. “You, girl. Get up here!”

Ninsha stood up quickly, then looked around: which gate was it? The double iron gate below the window was chained shut.

“Where do you think, girl? This one,” and a finger stabbed downwards. Ninsha stood up, and started hurrying towards it. Hai, if she couldn’t get in, it would be her fault, because she was just a servant. Before she reached it though, another old woman, in the dress of a maid, opened one leaf.

“Come, girl, Ashluta beltu wants to see you.”

Hai, the beltu bursuma of Qui, a lady that Amata beltu had said was, what, mad? No, capricious, that was the word, one of the first she had looked up in her little book. So no one could tell which she might do.

She followed the maid up the stairs, along a passage and into a room. It was like their sitting room, but much bigger. Facing her was a wall covered in a great painting, the same as the one Amata beltu had in Adir, though much bigger. But - hai! - the Lake of Qui showed the reflection of the citadel, but on the hillside opposite was no building to reflect. A glade of trees stood there.

“Yes, girl? What does it mean?”

She turned. The old woman was sitting cross-legged on a large purple cushion. She was dressed in black, as befitted one in permanent mourning; fine-spun, as befitted her rank; but her headscarf, pushed back, was white, and around the withered neck were two strings of beads, one black, one white. Here was one who defied convention. Behind her, on another wall was a mural showing a cave in cliffs, but with fires burning before it. The cliffs disappeared into a band of mist, and above, in the distance, rose the Teeth of the Annunaki. The entrance to the Paths of the Dead? Hai! Was not the beltu afraid of the spirits, having such things in her room? Next to the window an easel was propped against the wall.

“Are you going to answer me, girl? Or just stand there gawping all morning?”

Hai! Ninsha curtsied, as well as she could, holding the baby. The old woman’s eyebrows rose, but all she said was, “Your brain is not up to your manners, girl. I am still waiting.”

This beltu fitted her strange surroundings, and Ninsha’s answer must fit the beltu. She curtsied again, and said, “That what we see is sometimes not there, and what we do not see is sometimes there, bursuma-mah.”

The old woman gaze moved to pass over Ninsha’s shoulder. “Have you chained the gate, Lasaleen? No? Go and do it, woman. That devil will have a spy in here in no time flat.”

She turned to Ninsha and nodded. “Findian thinking, Arian brain. Findian or Arian sense?”

“Arian, I hope, bursuma-mah.”

“Your mistress better hope so too.” She waved a hand around. “You like my murals, girl?”

This answer must fit too. “They are … unusual, bursuma-mah.”

“You expect love scenes in the seraglio, do you, girl? You think I need them, at my age? Face like a shelled walnut, yes? No men’s shoes under my bed for forty years, yes? What, you think fifty years is more like it?”

“Hai, hai, no, bursuma-mah, I was thinking nothing of the sort.”

“Huh. You hold my descendant in your arms, the one who is going to have ’bou teeth.” Ninsha began to protest, and the beltu waved her words away. “Whatever he has, girl, I won’t be here to see it. How many ‘greats’ between me and him, girl? Is he my great-great-great-grandson? What you say, girl?”

“One at the most, bursuma-mah.”

“Huh. Two at the least, as your Findian moon maiden would have told me, with legal preciseness: Findian exactitude, not Arian subtlety. But we are not dealing with law or science or even philosophy, we are dealing with people, and the truth can have layers. Your moon maiden knows only the top and the bottom, the white and the black. You and I, girl, know there are others, as many as a tree has rings, even a tree as old as I am. We will see how good you are at judging when to reveal the whole tree. What is your name, girl?”

“Ninsha, bursuma-mah.”

“Huh. Are you the wise counsellor, like your namesake, then?”

“I hope so, bursuma-mah.”

The beltu’s maid came in, and the beltu said, “Up the stairs, woman. Check for spies there too.” The maid went to the narrow white door, opened it, and Ninsha heard the creaking of the stairs as she climbed. “Yes, girl, no lovers through that door for forty years either, and a locked gate at the top, not that I need it, yes? But the through passage is up there, and the sukkal’s spies lie on the floor and listen through the cracks. I don’t want them down my stairs as well. That passage, girl, runs all the way around to your moon maiden, and she has no locked gate. It is more than wise counsel that she will need to keep the atu from coming down her stairs.”

“I know that, bursuma-mah.”

“Good. That song, girl, where did you learn it?”

“From my mother, bursuma-mah.”

“Did I ask you from who, girl, or from where?”

The beltu’s body might be worn out, but her mind was as sharp as a ferret’s tooth, and she had the same short temper. “I learnt it on the tundra, bursuma-mah.”

“I have not heard that song for seventy years. No, fifty, for my mother sang it to my children as well as to me. My mother,” and she looked straight at Ninsha, “was a tundra girl.”

Someone who could say that had her respect. “I am a tundra girl, bursuma-mah, as was my mother, and her mother before her.”

“Good. Now I’m going to ask you some questions, girl, and I want the truth, all the truth. I want the whole tree, girl. If you lie, I will know, and you will be in trouble.”

“We are already in trouble, bursuma-mah.”

“Good. Not to the trouble, but to your answer.” She stared at Ninsha for a moment, then said, “Your face speaks of sense and good judgement, girl, and that, the Dingir know, is scarce around here. You will tell me your story, but not here where there are eyes that watch, ears that listen, and brains that think. Not many of that last, but just one is enough. So we will go to a safer place, but there is a price, and you will be the one to pay it.”

What could she mean? What could Ninsha offer which would be of any value to a beltu?

The beltu had risen - she was no taller than Ninsha  - and was taking the rings off her fingers. “If you convince me with your story, put this to your bela’s account. If not, to mine. But, risk nothing, gain nothing, girl.”

What now?

“Show me your cheek, Ninsha, and don’t drop the baby. Though, as you say, plenty more where he came from.” The beltu drew back her arm and, with a wide swing, gave Ninsha a slap.

Hai, what was that for? And it stung, really stung. The baby gave a cry of shock and started howling. Above the noise the beltu yelled, “’Bou teeth, ’bou teeth! I’ll give you ’bou teeth, you cheeky girl!”

That shriek must be bringing women to closed shutters all around the garden. And the baby yelling too.

“Lasaleen, Lasaleen, bring my stick, woman.”

Was she to be beaten as well as slapped? But no, the maid brought a walking stick, one twisted into a gnarled spiral, and the beltu took it, crying out, “Come, we are taking this useless, ignorant girl to see proper ’bou teeth, and while she’s there, she can clean the stables. Go, go, into the garden, you worthless tundra girl.” Then, in a low voice, “Head down, girl, hand over your eyes. No, not like that, higher: we want that slap nice and visible, otherwise all my art is wasted.”

They reached the garden, and the beltu yelled out, “One of you girls get down here, come, come, come, now, now, now, take the baby, come, come, come!”

Three maids appeared at their gates and came running, and Ninsha thrust the baby at the first one to arrive. The girl stared with wide eyes at Ninsha’s cheek, which by now, she was sure, was showing the imprint of the beltu’s hand in clear red and white. The other maids clustered around her.

“What are you all gawking at? Had you never seen a slapped girl before? She comes out of nowhere, and tells my grandson he will have ’bou teeth! Go, take the child away, the lot of you. And don’t let him suck his thumb!” The maids sprang back as the beltu waved her stick at them.


	19. Tsu-tsu

“Gardu,” the beltu said to the guard as they passed the gate,” where is my grandson?”

The soldier bowed from the waist. “The atu, bursuma-mah?”

“Hai, did you leave your brain behind when you came on duty? Of course not the atu, since when can a silly old woman command the atu? The captain.”

“He is off duty, bursuma-mah.”

“Not to his grandmother. I want to go to my stables. Go and fetch him. And tell him to bring his whip. It is his nephew that has been insulted.”

“Hai, bursuma-mah, I cannot leave my post. I am on duty here.”

“And you think that one old woman is not enough to beat off all the hordes of Hakkanites who might attack in the few moments you will be gone?”

“Bursuma-mah, I cannot go. I will be whipped at the least, if I desert my post.”

“Then I shall go out alone, and if I slip on the cobbles, it will your fault.”

“Hai, hai, bursuma-mah!” And he lifted a horn from his waist, and blew on it, three quick toots. “I will be in trouble, bursuma-mah. This is supposed to be for emergency use only.”

A door opened in the guard house across the courtyard, and another soldier stepped out.

“Gardugar, the bursuma-mah seeks the gardugal.”

The gardugar glared at him, but bowed from the waist to the beltu, turned and marched to a door at one end of the courtyard wall.

“You’ll be in trouble, boy?” said the beltu.

The soldier wagged his head. “Nothing serious, bursuma-mah.”

“Lasaleen, give this boy a wheatsheaf.”

The old woman shuffled forward, reached into a bag slung around her neck, and held out a tiny wooden carving of a sheaf of wheat strung on a thin leather thong.

“Hai, bursuma-mah, it will only be a week’s half rations, it is not necessary-”

“Take it, boy. The dragon pays her debts.”

The soldier looked around, then took the tiny symbol and thrust it into his pocket.

“Thank you, bursuma-mah. I will take the half rations, and give the sheaf to my cousin, if I may, bursuma-mah.”

The beltu looked a question at him.

“He was ill, bursuma-mah, and could not attend the temple, and so was fined, one quarter of his crop. Your gift will help his family through the winter, bursuma-mah.”

“Give me the token, boy.”

He did, and she marked a double gouge across it with her thumbnail, then gave it back. “Tell your cousin to ask for Hasamun at my granary, and show him the mark. He will give three times.”

“Hai, hai, bursuma-mah. Hai, without the bursuma-mah-”

She waved his thanks away and he bowed his head, then looked up and said, “Here comes the gardugal, bursuma-mah.”

 

As they walked along the cobbles, the captain on one side of the beltu, holding her arm, and Ninsha on one side of the maid, the captain said, “Amamah, you must not try to seduce my men from their duty.”

“Hai,” and she elbowed him in the ribs so that he grunted. “Such words you choose, you wicked boy.”

“But it is serious, amamah. If the soldier had left his post, I would have had to have him whipped, otherwise discipline would suffer.”

“Do not worry, Masgal. I did not press him hard. But I have to keep up my reputation of being a difficult old woman, otherwise where would we be?”

“Amamah, is this the place to talk?”

“No, Masgal, but not for the reason you think.” She raised her voice and called out “Girl, if you let my maid slip, it will be twice the whipping you are due, you hear me?”

Hai. “Yes, bursuma-mah.” But Lasaleen squeezed her arm and gave a slight shake of her head.

“You’re going to whip the girl, amamah?” said the captain.

“No, Masgal, you are. She insulted your nephew, saying he will grow up to have ‘bou teeth.”

“Amamah, I have never whipped a woman, and I am not going to start now. And as long as my nephew can flit through the woods like a ’bou, I don’t care what sort of teeth he has.”

“And who is talking out of turn now? I want you, Captain Masgal, to stand outside my stables. I am taking the girl in there for questioning, and I don’t want long ears listening. And I want you to stay close, I may need you.”

 

The doors banged shut, and the beltu said, “So: a tundra girl should be able to groom my horses, yes?”

The stables were gloomy with the doors closed, even though the shutters up at loft level were open. Ninsha began walking in the direction of the beltu’s gesture, but then, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she looked around. And stopped.

In next row of stalls were black ’bou, fourteen, sixteen of them. And beyond them, in an isolated stall, a creature she had never expected to see again. Could it really be? Maybe: the big head was already turned towards her, the nose sniffing the air.

She pushed open the barrier, and ran across to him.

“Not that one, girl. He is a bit wild. He belongs to the Findian devil.”

“He belongs to me, bursuma-mah, to me! Hai, Tsu-tsu, Tsu-tsu.”

The huge eyes gazed at her, and the ‘bou snorted.

She held out her hand, palm upwards, for him to smell.

“Be careful girl, he bites. He has a reputation, that one.”

“He won’t bite me, bursuma-mah. Will you, Tsu-tsu?”

The ‘bou stood there, shifting from foot to foot, sniffing at her hand.

“Here, unu.” It was Lasaleen, and she passed Ninsha an apple.

“Thank you, bela.”

“Do not ‘bela’ me, unu,” said Lasaleen. “My mistress thinks my head will get swollen.”

“Even more than it already is,” said the beltu. “Come, girl, let us see if the ’bou eats your fingers or the apple.”

“Tsu-tsu, Tsu-tsu, here we are, boy, you used to love apples, as well as anything else that was going, Tsu-tsu. Gently now, gently now.”

He sniffed at the apple then, curling back his lips, he took it in his huge teeth. Ninsha leant forward and rubbed his nose “Enjoying that, are you, Tsu-tsu? There’s a good boy, there’s a good boy, Tsu-tsu. Hai, you look as though you have not been treated well, Tsu-tsu.”

The ‘bou watched her as he crunched the apple. Then the big head came forward again, and he nudged her shoulder, nearly knocking her over.

She laughed. “Hai, gently. Gently now, Tsu-tsu. You remember me? You should do, you big devil, Tsu-tsu. I spent enough time training you, nursing you, loving you, Tsu-tsu.”

The ’bou nickered quietly.

“Hai,” said the beltu, “he is yours, girl, no question of that.”

“I am a ’bou girl, bursuma-mah. And a tundra girl. That sled,” and Ninsha pointed at a wooden sled with caribou antler horns hanging behind the stall, “that is also mine, bursuma-mah. I made it, together with my father. We searched out the wood for the runners from old thorn trees, we cut the leather thong from the hide of a tough old male caribou. Hai, he was a troublemaker, that one. We used his antlers and some of his bones as well, for they were thick and strong. The steel facing on the runners, bursuma-mah, each one cost my father a caribou calf. In the case,” and she pointed to a small box made of stiff leather lashed to the frame, “are my knives, my fire making kit, my ice shoes. Or were. The gallu might have thrown them away by now.”

“So you owned a caribou that now lives in the atu’s stables, and a sled that now hangs in the atu’s stalls. And I saw also that you recognised the black caribou, girl. And in the joy of reunion, you did not see what showing this means, but now,” and she looked at Ninsha out of the corner of her eye, “now you do. So tell me, the why and how.”

What had she done! “Hai, hai, bursuma-mah, I was hasty, I did not think. This has nothing, almost nothing, to do with Lea bela.” Telling Amata beltu was bad enough, but Ashluta beltu was the atu’s grandmother.

“Perhaps, perhaps. But it has a lot to do with me, girl. Too late to take it back now. I have seen and heard, and you cannot make me unsee and unhear. Being hasty and not thinking is not always bad, though don’t tell your moon maiden that. She needs no encouragement. So tell me, girl, and do not try to hide the truth, be it good or bad. How comes your ’bou and your sled to be in the stables of the atu of Qui?”

So Ninsha had to tell her about the loan and the foreclosure, expecting at any moment that the beltu would shriek at her for insulting her family, and have her whipped, or even thrown out of Qui. And then what would happen to her bela?

But the beltu sat quietly on a bench, and had listened and watched without comment. To hide her trembling hands Ninsha stood and stroked Tsu-tsu’s nose, he nuzzling at her shoulder, and Lasaleen passing her apples to feed him. Once Lasaleen took her hand and squeezed it, and gave her the tiniest nod. Hai, would it be all right?

When she had finished, the beltu said, “Be tranquil, girl. I am not offended. So it was from your father’s herd that the black caribou came. My grandson has done many bad things, girl, but this is not one of them. The herd was a gift from the sukkal. Though my grandson is very apt to accept offerings which please him without enquiring where they came from. As you already know. Some restitution may be possible, Ninsha, from me to you-” Ninsha shook her head, and the beltu said, “Yes, what is broken, your family, cannot be repaired.”

“I did not mean that, bursuma-mah, but that your family, bursuma-mah, has already made some restitution. Your grandson, bursuma-mah, the gardugal: the gallu tried to provoke my father by pushing him, by knocking him down, to provoke him to attack, so that the gallu would have an excuse to kill him. The gardugal, though I do not think he was a gardugal then, but just an ordinary gardu, stopped my father from attacking the gallu, and also the gallu from driving him to attack. Without that, with my father dead there and then, all the herd taken, we, my mother and my sister and I, would have been destitute, with no choice but to sell ourselves into slavery.”

The beltu walked to the door, and rapped on it with a stick. The captain opened it, and the beltu said, “Masgal, look at this girl. Do you recognise her? Look carefully, now. Stand in the light there, girl, where he can see you properly.”

“No, amamah, I don’t recognise her, though her features look familiar, a little. Why?”

“Perhaps, gardugal-mah, you see my mother in me. You saw her two, two and a half years ago, at the calving grounds west of Umar, on the Agammu.”

He stared at her. “You were there, unu?”

“I was one of the children, gardugal-mah.”

“The children that came later, with the sled and the big caribou.” His eyes shifted to Tsu-tsu. “That caribou.” He looked back at Ninsha. “And your father, your mother, the other child?”

“My mother is at peace with Anki; my father, I hope, too. My sister serves Amata beltu of Adir.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, then said, “That was an evil day. You were away in Hakkan at the time, amamah. I had been demoted to the ranks by my cousin, for again questioning orders, and sent to serve with the Findian as a further punishment. The Findian swore it was all lawful, he had the papers to prove it, but I could see from the nomad and his family, that it was all lies. The sukkal wanted the black herd, and had told the Findian to get it. I should have stopped it.”

“Was that not when your cousin threatened you with dismissal?”

He shook his head. “That was no excuse. I should have stopped it.”

“Gardugal-mah,” said Ninsha, “you did stop the gallu from killing my father. Without that we would have been much more broken.”

“I am glad of that, unu. It was little enough. I should have done more.”

“I think perhaps that is what the sukkal was hoping for,” said the beltu. “If you had disobeyed, a wedge would have been driven further between your cousin and you. If you had obeyed, he got the black herd. That is the way the scorpion operates: either way he wins.”

“Amamah, it takes your mind to think of that. But I am sure you are right. Hai, what is that?” He drew his sword from its sheath, and strode into one of the stalls.

Crouching down in the corner, behind the caribou, was a man dressed in furs.

“Hai, a spy!” said the beltu. “We know how to deal with such as you.”

“Stand up, man,” said the captain. “Come out. What were you doing in there?”

The man stood up, and walked forward into the light. “Hai, hai, gardugal-mah, bursuma-mah, I meant no harm, I was just hiding until dusk, and then I would go away, into the woods.”

Ninsha stared. It was the hunter from the audience hall “Ugula-gar, is it you? Hai, what has happened to you?” His face was bruised and swollen, and he was walking with a limp.

“Hai, namkisikil. It was an ill day for me when I met you.”

“But what has happened? The atu was pleased, he granted your petition.” She turned to the beltu. “We traded a sketch of my bela’s, a silver fox, for a white scarf in-”

The beltu waved her hand. “I know the story, girl. But not the aftermath. Tell us, ugula-gar.”

The hunter looked from the beltu to the captain, then shook his head. “Forgive me, bursuma-mah, I cannot. I am in enough trouble. Will you not just let me go away into the woods? I have heard nothing, seen nothing, and would speak nothing. In any case, I must leave Qui and seek another city now.”

Hai, into exile? What had happened to him?

“Perhaps so, perhaps not. But first, you must tell us, ugula-gar. You will not suffer further for telling me the truth. Lasaleen, check outside for spies.”

“The Findian gallu, bursuma-mah, he beat me. He came and he found me that same afternoon. He said I was insolent to have dealt with the Findian beltu. I tried to tell him that I dealt with an unu, an Arian maid, and knew nothing of any Findian beltu. But he took my token for three pelts of the kula-ka’a, and stamped on it, and broke it into many pieces, and he beat me with his fists. And then yesterday he found me again, and beat me again, why I do not know. So now I run to the woods, for fear of what might happen if I stay another day in Qui. And I must seek another city to pledge my allegiance, bursuma-mah, for Qui is closed to me now. The gallu is the tool of the sukkal, and the arm and the memory of the sukkal are long. I think perhaps I must go to Hakkan.”

“Hai, ugula-gar,” said Ninsha, “My heart is desolated that I have brought this evil upon you. I never thought that such a thing would follow our innocent trading.”

“It is not you, girl,” said the beltu, “who has brought evil to Qui. It is not you that so oppresses the people that even Hakkan is a better place to live than Qui. It is not you that lines our bridge with corpses. Ugula-gar, you shall not go into exile. Qui is your city, and it is my wish that it should remain your city. But, like the kula-ka’a, you should lay low for a while. I will give you a token for four pelts of the kula-ka’a, to be taken from my forests, up at the pass. You know them?”

“I do, bursuma-mah. Not to hunt from, but to pass through.”

“This time you may hunt, or trap, but only four, four of the big male kula-ka’a, for my gamekeeper tells me that will keep the balance between predator and prey in the small creatures. And you may stay in my lodge, not the main one, but the little one just beyond the fork to Luzagaz. You know it?”

“I know it, bursuma-mah. I once had to shelter in the woodshed from a blizzard.”

“The weather is fierce up there. Stay in the lodge for the winter, and then, in spring, we will see. You have supplies, ugula-gar?”

“I do, bursuma-mah. Barley, wheat, salt, sour wine. You have given me a shelter when no one will look for me, bursuma-mah. That is all I need. I thank you, bursuma-mah. I can catch my four kula-ka’a, cure the skins over the winter, and in spring sell them and be ready for – whatever I must do. I thank you, bursuma-mah.”

“Thank also that you trusted this maiden, and helped her. Lasaleen, give this man a moonstone as token. Masgal, remember my words to this ugula and honour them if I cannot. Do you have a place where you can hide him, and let him out at sunset?”

 

When the captain and the hunter had gone, the beltu said, “Come, girl, we have heard your story, to the loss of your herd. Tell us the rest, but briefly, for dusk is not far off, and your bela will need you.”

Ninsha did.

When she had finished, the beltu said, “Hai, your story is not uncommon, girl, though usually the wider family is there to help. Most of those who sink to the depths you have do not rise again. You have known sorrow and loss, Ninsha, and it has not broken you. You are lucky you had your sister.” And when Ninsha looked at her in surprise, she said, “Oh yes. Many, especially women, will fight harder and longer for a loved one than for themselves. You have done well to survive, Ninsha. But it is not all your virtue, girl, luck has played a part. Luck and the honour of your Findian bela. Few would have responded as she did, to your stepfather’s violence. And further luck put you in the hands of Amata beltu. She has unsurpassed goodness, intelligence and judgement, though allowing an exotic creature like your bela to wander around Aria is possibly not the wisest thing she ever did. And now that exotic creature is in the hands of my grandson, unhappily so. What would you do if you could, Ninsha tundra girl?”

Hai, if she could? “Take my bela, and Amunita bela and Ibba, back to Umar and then on to Adir, as quickly as I could, bursuma-mah.”

“What, that foolish girl, that caused all this trouble? I would just leave her here, to be shipped back in the spring. Her head is as empty as a flagon in a dockside tavern at dawn. And her maid is worse. Gossip, gossip, gossip, that is all she does.”

Lasaleen nodded. “Yes, worse. Emptier then empty.”

The beltu narrowed her eyes at her maid. “Six months in Qui would teach her some sense. And her maid-”

“And her maid could be maid to the beltu bursuma,” said Lasaleen. “That would teach her some sense. Yes, truly.”

“It seems that she is not the only maid who lacks sense around here, Lasaleen, and cleaning stables is a good remedy for a flapping tongue.”

Lasaleen bowed her head. “The bursuma-mah makes my point better than I can, beltu.”

“Bursuma-mah,” said Ninsha, “it was to fetch Amunita back to Umar my bela came to Qui. She would not leave without her.”

“Your bela. She has honour, yes, but her wits as well as her looks must be with the moon, to come to Qui. But now she is here, causing upheaval and disruption in the seraglio, and turning my grandson’s head. Not that that is difficult, but this time it might turn so far it will become unscrewed.”

She sighed. “Atu Lirum is a fine hunter and a brave warrior. As a leader of warriors hunting men in the woods, or even in the open field against an enemy, none can surpass him. But as a ruler of a city…” She shook her head. Then she looked at Ninsha. “The sukkal is not a good man, girl, but before he came, the people suffered even worse, for the atu gave the administration of Qui little attention. The hillside terraces and valley fields were not weeded, the irrigation canals were not cleared, the grain stored, if at all, so it got damp and mildew. A Family council was held, and it was decided the atu needed help. The sukkal of the Temple of Enlil in Umar, a man known for efficient administration, was appointed as the atu’s adviser. He walked, looked and did nothing for a month. Then he executed five corrupt officials and banished three more. Since that time the city has run smoothly. He was appointed as adviser, but quickly became the administrator in all but name. The atu delegates everything other than defence and military matters to him. With such power, he has been able to shape life in Qui according to his own beliefs. These are more akin to Hakkan than Aria, where the old order rules. The temple is become like the vine, creeping everywhere, draining the life essence. Tithes increase, the penalties for canon infringements become more severe, and the people suffer again in mind, spirit and body. But the sukkal relieves the atu of the tedious burden of running the city, and brings him gifts like your father’s ‘bou, and your Findian bela, so Lirum supports him and sees no reason for change.

“Masgal would be the better ruler, he has the breadth of vision, the attention to detail, the sense of duty that is needed. Lirum sees this, and is jealous of his cousin’s abilities, and so tries to keep him down. He will always support the sukkal rather than his cousin in any dispute. Masgal is the junior, by seven years, and is loyal to his cousin, in spite of this treatment. So things worsen. But it cannot go on. In Qui, loyalty to the Families, to Aria itself, is wavering because of neglect and maltreatment by family Gautian. I think a council of the Families is needed, in Adir. I need not tell you, girl, that this goes no further. Not even to your bela, understand?”

“My lips are sealed, bursuma-mah.”

“Good. Lasaleen would tell me I am foolish to trust anyone I have known only for a few hours. Is that not so, Lasaleen?”

“A few hours and a slap, beltu.”

“It came out well: my handprint is still visible.”

“And still stinging,” said Lasaleen, “is that not so, unu?”

“Yes, abrig-sikil,” said Ninsha.

“Well, we must all suffer for our art, girl,” said the beltu.

“Yes,” said Lasaleen, nodding, “the beltu’s hand stung for all of the time it took the ’bou to eat an apple, the maid’s face will still be tender tomorrow. The beltu’s art and the maid’s suffering. And the beltu threatened to beat her, and twice what she deserved if she let me slip.”

“And did she let you slip?”

“She did not, beltu.”

“And did she deserve a beating?”

“She did not, beltu.”

“So she deserved nothing, and if she had let you slip, would still have got nothing, because twice nothing is nothing, as Ninsha’s moon maiden would tell you, with mathematical precision. Are you going to answer my question, Lasaleen, or are you going to mumble and mutter and witter on all night? This girl has duties she wants to attend to, unlike others.”

“You have always trusted tundra people, beltu. So far, you have been right.”

“Huh. So far, she says. Ninsha tundra girl, I trust you, and you can trust me. It may be that we can help each other. Your moon maiden is a disruptive influence here, girl, and I want her gone, quite as much as she wants to be gone herself. Or perhaps not quite as much. For me she is like a bee in a roomful of silly girls, causing chaos but no serious harm, but for herself she is the silver fox, with her foot caught in the trap. Your moon maiden is resisting all she can, Ninsha, but like a leaf against the autumn winds. We all know what the end result will be, and sooner rather than later. So let us bring matters to a head.

“Now, do not tell your bela what has happened between us today. You may let her know that it is not what it seems, but no more than that. I trust your bela’s discretion, but she is being squeezed, and what she does not know she cannot tell. So tell the cat and no one else. The Dingir willing, we will not need this tip-toeing around, but the stakes are high and the cost low, so let us keep to it. Now your moon maiden will be wondering where you are and worrying about you, so we must go. But first, more art.”

Ninsha understood the words and the phrases, but not when they were leading. Perhaps to be unclear was what the beltu intended. ‘More art’ though, she understood, all too well.

“Hai, don’t look so, girl. Lasaleen would never let me forget it if I so much as put another finger on you. No, I have made you clean my stables, girl, and that will tell everyone what I think of you, and by association, your mistress. So you must smell of horses, or at least caribou. Go and rub yourself up against that big animal of yours, and get some dung on your clothes. We want people to know where you’ve been, by sight and by scent, though I can tell you it will be an improvement on what some of the girls in the seraglio wear.”


	20. The Temple of Ishtar

“Ninsha!” Her bela was on her feet and hurrying towards her before Ninsha heard the bolts slide home in the suite door. Behind her, Ninsha could see Amunita sitting on the sofa.

“Oh, Ninsha, where have you been? I expected to find you waiting-” the bela stopped short, and stared at her.

“In the stables, by the smell of her,” said Amunita. “Lea bela, now that your maid is here, I will leave you. And if you don’t mind, I will close the door between our suites, so that the aroma,” and she wrinkled her nose, “is contained.”

“Ninsha, what has happened?” said Lea bela. “Someone hit you? Actually struck you? Oh, no. No, no. That is going too far. They might hate me, but to take it out on you, no, that is not acceptable.” She took Ninsha’s hands. “Who was it, Ninsha? I will speak to … to somebody about this. It is not acceptable, not at all. Who was it, Ninsha?”

Amunita had gone through her door, but left it open a crack so she could hear.

“The beltu bursuma, bela,” but she stepped across so that only her bela could see her face, and shook her head. Her bela’s eyebrows went up. Amunita’s door clicked shut. “Lea bela, may I get some clean clothes, and go and wash, and then return to tell you?”

“Of course, Ninsha. I’m sure you’ll feel better after a bath. I’m so glad you’re back safely.”

 

Her bela looked up and smiled when she re-entered the suite sitting room, and patted the rug next to her. “Do you feel better now, Ninsha? Will you tell me what happened?”

“Thank you, bela, yes.” Best to give a very short version of the truth. Lies always became tangled. “I was in the garden, bela, mending, and someone gave me a baby to hold. He was sucking his thumb, and I told him that he would get ‘bou teeth, protruding teeth, you understand, bela, if he kept on doing that. Beltu bursuma Ashluta heard me, and thought I was insulting the baby. So she slapped me,” and Ninsha looked intently into her bela’s eyes, and gave her head a small shake.

Her bela raised an eyebrow, then said, “Really? And how do you feel about that, Ninsha?”

Good. Her bela was following her lead. So they could make a little scene of her defusing her bela’s annoyance. “I think maybe I deserved it, bela, as the baby is her great grandson.”

“I see. A very important baby. Not a baby to chastise in such a familiar manner. Do you think he will grow up with buck …’bou teeth, Ninsha?” Her bela’s mouth was straight, but her eyes were dancing.

“I am sure it will not be my fault if he does, bela. I have warned them.”

The bela covered her face with her hands, and Ninsha could see her whole body shaking with laughter. Hai, her bela had a free spirit. That was wonderful, but not to be encouraged right now.

“And it was a very hard slap, bela.”

Instantly her bela’s face cleared. “Oh, I am sorry, Ninsha. I can see it was. The atu’s grandmother must have been very angry.”

“She made me clean out her stables, bela, as well.”

“Were they very dirty, Ninsha?” Her bela’s eyes were sparkling again.

“There was dung everywhere, bela. I shall hold my tongue next time.”

Her bela’s face was beginning to crease up again, her sense of fun rising. But this was not prudent. Who knew might be listening?

“Bela, how was your day?”

The smile dropped away as if wiped off with a cloth, and her bela sighed. “The atu was very persuasive and insisted that I take his arm, as yesterday, saying that otherwise his Findian footman would have to ensure everyone was well out of my way.”

She must translate this, from genteel Findian to tundra Arian: _the atu forced her to take his arm by telling her his thug would beat up innocent people otherwise._

“When I came to do the sketching, he took the pencils, and stood behind me all the time.”

_The atu forced his attention on her and crowded her._

“Amunita and Ibba couldn’t really help, as they didn’t understand the situation, and probably couldn’t have done much if they had.”

_The feather-brains were too stupid and insensitive to notice, and anyway, too terrified of the atu to help her bela._

“They felt awkward, and walked away.”

_The one thing they could have done, stay there to inhibit the atu, the numpties didn’t. Instead they scuttled away._

“The atu was surprised that I wasn’t using as many different pencils as I had when you were there.”

_The atu began to suspect that their ruse was a ruse._

“I explained that when the person holding the pencils was not experienced, it was quicker if I used fewer pencils and held those myself.”

_Her bela tried to wriggle her way out._

“The atu wondered if I was tense or upset, and tried to help by putting his hand on my shoulder.”

_The atu used anything and everything as an excuse to touch her._

“I told him I was not feeling very well, and asked if we could return to the palace. He said he had another temple to show me, and insisted that I see it.”

_When, distressed by his persistent and presumptuous attentions, she had wanted to return to the palace, he’d dragged her off somewhere else, to make some point._

“He took me to the Temple of Ishtar, and, oh Ninsha, it is even worse than I believed possible. Those poor women, sitting there, dressed in rags, shivering in the cold, their heads down. They were like beaten dogs. The thought that that could have been your fate, Ninsha! I wanted to stop and speak to them, but the atu insisted that I leave them alone. I was angry, and asked him how he could allow such a thing in his city.”

It struck Ninsha with such force that she wondered why she had never seen it before: _the atu was a fool_. Clearly, he had taken her to the Temple of Ishtar to frighten her, to make her think that this was what might happen to her if she refused him. It might work with someone like Amunita, yes, but did he think all women were cut from the same ‘bou skin? Did he not know that Lea bela had braved a marketplace full of foreign men and faced down a man built like a bull caribou, to rescue her, a girl she scarcely knew? Even without that, her bela’s delicacy of mind; her bright, sharp taking-down of the sukkal, must make her cast of character obvious to all but a dullard. How could the atu believe such sights would cow her?

Anyone but a blockhead would realize that taking a woman like her bela to the Temple of Ishtar with its broken people would do nothing but horrify her, arouse her sympathy for them, and her anger and disgust towards those who caused, and those who allowed, such wrongdoing. So not only did it not intimidate her, it fired her up. It made her despise him even more. It made her even less likely to accept him. What a fool! If he was as hopeless at soldiering as he was at wooing, the citadel would have fallen to Hakkan in the first year.

“He seemed surprised at my questions, and said the women of Ishtar were the business of the Temple of Ishtar. I told him that if it was his city, then it was his business if his people suffered. I asked him if the Temple was supposed to serve the people, or the people the Temple. He said that of course the Temple served the people. So I asked him how it was that those women outside the Temple of Ishtar were dressed in rags, and yet the high priest, the sukkal, has gold thread in his robes. I asked him why his people were so subdued, why the window shutters of the houses were broken. I asked him where the income from the tax of passage which the traders pay when they use the pass of Qui, where all that money goes. He said he did not know, that was the administrators’ business, not his.”

Of course he did not know. Why should a man whose sole interests were hunting bears and Hakkanites, and finding exotic bedmates, concern himself with tiresome matters like his duty to his people? Far easier to leave that to the sukkal, especially a sukkal who brought him those exotic bedmates.

“I told him that, as the ruler, everything should be his business. I reminded him that he was not just the atu, but the lugal also. He was the guardian of his people. He tried to make light of it, saying I sounded like his grandmother, but then he agreed to look into it.”

She would believe that when the mists of the Agammu lifted.

“And Umar, bela?”

Lea bela sighed. “He refused to discuss it, Ninsha, and was angry that I even mentioned it. So, although we now have Amunita and Ibba back, we are no closer to going home.”

Impulsively Ninsha took her bela’s hand, and kissed it. Immediately her bela responded by taking her in her arms and hugging her.

“Ninsha, what is going to happen to us?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“Don’t lose hope, bela,” Ninsha whispered back. “We are not alone. But - it might get worse before it gets better. You will have to be strong, bela.”

“I don’t know if I can. Every day he demands more and I have to give it.”

“No. You have resisted well so far, bela. You have given what you must, but no more. You must keep fighting.”

Her bela released her and stepped back, looking at her with sad, hooded eyes.


	21. The atu's proposal

Snow fell again that night. The bela, looking out, said in a low voice, “Would this close the pass, do you think, Ninsha?”

“No, bela, even though up there the snow will be thicker. I think a wagon would still get through.”

“Well, it doesn’t make any difference. We are not going there.”

“Not today, bela.”

“Not in any day, Ninsha. I feel he’s getting impatient. I can feel his anger building up. He is a feudal ruler, half a generation removed from a warlord. If he is not given what he wants, he takes it.”

“Lea bela, you are not a nobody. That is why he has not ‘taken’ so far. He knows, yes, he knows, that eventually men will come looking for you. Powerful men, and that if you are harmed, they will be angry. They will seek vengeance.”

“Ninsha, that is how it was, the first few days. But yesterday… I feel he’s losing that restraint. His requests are more like demands now. He’s told me he will send for me this morning. He did not ask me, he told me.”

“He has not done so, bela. It is past the usual time.”

 

It was midday before the the summons came, and it specifically excluded Ninsha.

“No,” said her bela to the messenger. “Please tell the atu that I require that my maid attends me. I require that, or will not attend his audience.”

The atu was waiting in the small audience chamber, together with the sukkal and two scribes sitting at a sidetable. He scowled as Ninsha followed her bela into the room.

“Lady Lea, I asked that your maid be excluded. Yet I see her here.”

“Atu-en, why would a lugal object to the present of a maid servant? Surely a gentleman would be happy to acquiesce to such a minor requirement should a lady request it?”

“She is a disruptive element, lady Lea,” said the sukkal. “We are minded to replace her.”

“I beg your pardon, sukkal-mah, for I must have misunderstood you. It is not credible that the sukkal of Qui is concerning himself with whom a woman employs as a maid.”

The atu made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Let the girl stay, provided she does not speak. Madam, I have a proposal for you. You came to Qui to retrieve a young woman who had come here without your permission. I am prepared to escort her to Umar, even to Adir.”

“You are most obliging, atu-en. When may we depart?”

“My kinswoman may depart tomorrow. However, lady Lea, for you I have another proposal. My hand in marriage.”

Lea bela stared at him, then said, “The atu overwhelms me with this honour.”

“Yes, lady Lea,” said the sukkal. “It is certainly a great honour to become the bride of the atu of Qui, to become a beltu of Qui.”

“May… may I consider it, atu-en, and send you my answer from Umar or Adir?”

The atu seemed to swell. “Lady Lea, is there doubt in your mind, that you need to consider my proposal?”

“The atu perhaps forgets that for a woman, marriage means leaving her old life to start a new one, in a new place, with new people. For me, this is particularly so. For a man such as the atu, the change is far less. The atu’s proposal has taken me unawares, and I need time to consider it.”

“How can it have taken you unawares, lady Lea?” said the sukkal. “Have not the atu’s attentions been plain enough?”

This was not wise, thought Ninsha. Even if the atu did not know of the red scarf, he had seen Lea bela’s clear dislike of the sukkal. Surely he must realise that the sukkal’s interference could in no way advance his suit.

Her bela looked the sukkal full in the face. “Clearly no matter is too small or too personal for the sukkal of Qui to concern himself with. First it is the enticing of a girl of the atu’s kindred to behave foolishly and dishonourably by leaving her guardian; then it is the gifts which a young woman might give innocently to the atu; then it is the employment of sophistry to maintain the illusion that detaining the atu’s kinswoman - and me - in Qui has any justification in law or custom. Then it is whom a woman employs as a maid. And now the sukkal takes on himself the interpretation of a woman’s heart. Truly, it is no wonder that the people of Qui are dressed in rags and go hungry. The sukkal’s mind is engaged elsewhere.”

Hai - that was a damning denunciation. Another slap for the sukkal, and again the scribes were staring at her bela, openmouthed. But it had taken its toll. Her bela was trembling visibly now.

The sukkal’s eyes were as cold as those of an Agammu adder. “Does the lady Lea have any proof of these accusations?”

Then, at last, the atu realised his mistake.

“My sukkal, this is a matter of the heart, as the lady Lea says. So it would be best if I spoke to her alone.” He looked pointedly at the door.

“It is, as always, just as the atu wishes,” and the sukkal rose, and ignoring Lea bela, left the room, curtly gesturing to the scribes to follow.

And her? Would the atu tell her to leave? Given her bela’s insistence on Ninsha’s company, the atu might not by word, but might by gesture, so Ninsha kept her gaze firmly on the floor.

The atu drew up a chair close to her bela, sat down and leant forward. “Lady Lea, I apologise for bringing the sukkal into this. It was unintentional, I assure you. And I shall enquire into what he has done, and shall make amends as necessary. But the truth is, lady Lea, that I have fallen in love with you, with your gentleness, your grace, and your beauty, and would make you my wife.”

A new approach? Had he realised that coercion would never win her? His voice was soft: a wooing of charm, admiration and gentleness. That was far more likely to find favour with her mistress. Would Lea bela be taken in by it?

“Atu-en, I am truly flattered by your words and by your attention, but our backgrounds, our cultures are so different-”

“Ah, lady Lea, it is that which attracts me. You have already shown me that our customs here in Qui result in much hardship and misery. With you to guide me, my lady, we could bring about change. Together we can visit Adir, yes, and even Findias, and see the changes that are being brought about there, and discuss with the lugals there, how they could be implemented here. Together, lady Lea, we could bring about a new dawn in Qui.”

Perhaps he was not such a fool after all. He was able to string two thoughts together, and had realised, finally, what would move her bela. Would she be taken in by it? Ninsha knew, she knew to the marrow of her bones, that the only new dawns that the atu was interested in were those that brought fresh prey to his hunting bow, or to his bed.

Her bela looked at him. “Would you really do all this, atu-en?”

“For you, my lady, I would. If you accept my hand, willingly.”

“Well …”

Ninsha closed her eyes. The bela was tempted. She would not accept him for her own sake, or for his sake, but for the sake of others? Ninsha thanked the Dingir that the atu had been too stupid to realise this earlier.

“Will you accept me, my lady? Qui will be come famous with the beauty of its young beltu, and for leading Aria into a new, freer world of happiness. Will you accept me, now?”

Now? Why ‘now’? A time limit? Had her bela picked that up? She was staring into the atu’s face, trying to read the truth there. But it was not there, not in those dark eyes, bronzed skin and white teeth. It was in the heart, and that would not, could not change. It was not an evil heart, like the sukkal’s, but it was dull, and set in its ways.

Her bela seem fixated on his face. Ninsha must break the spell. She coughed, and her bela gave a tiny shudder.

“Atu-en, I would indeed like to help you help the people of Qui. But a marriage between a man and a woman is for ever, and we must make sure we can make each other happy. It is not something to be undertaken hastily.”

“Then you are rejecting me, lady Lea?”

“No, atu-en, I am saying a man and a woman must each give deep consideration to marriage before they commit themselves.”

“I have done so, my lady, and thus ask you to be my wife.”

To be one of his wives. One of his seven wives.

“Again, atu-en, I am flattered by your offer. But you must understand that I was unaware of how deep your feelings ran until you honoured me with this offer, and I have had no time to consider it.”

“Lady Lea, I must know your answer today.”

“But why, atu-en? Surely you can see that a woman needs time to consider such a momentous decision?”

“I cannot tell you why, lady Lea, but I must have your answer.”

“Would you not say, atu-en, that if a man loves a woman, and expects her to trust him, he would tell her why he requires such a decision at such short notice?”

The atu rose, standing over her. Had the mask slipped?

“Madam, if you tell me you can give me no answer, then you are rejecting me. Are you rejecting me, lady Lea?”

She looked up at him, then slowly rose to her feet and stepped back. Lowering her gaze, she said, “Atu-en, I can give you no answer.”

“Yes or no, lady Lea.”

“If you must, atu-en: no.”

He stepped back and with one fluid motion, drew a curved dagger from his belt and plunged it into the armrest of the state chair. Lea bela drew back, her hand at her throat. Hai, were they next? She stepped forward. But the atu just made her bela a stiff bow and said, “You reject me. You have not heard the last of this.” He turned and strode from the room.


	22. The iron jaws open

As the suite door closed behind them, her bela leant her back against the wall, closed her eyes and said, “I hope I never have to go through such an unpleasant scene again.”

Hai. Were all Findian ladies like this? An audience with a man which leaves them white and trembling, in which they are threatened with a dagger, and they say it was ‘an unpleasant scene?’

Ninsha took her hands. “Maybe you won’t, bela. Why the ‘now’? Why was he not willing to give you even one day? You were wavering, Lea bela, you were considering his offer. He had seen the effect of being gentle. And then he tried to force you, having seen, day after day before, how that made you resist. There must be something, something that will be there if you said ‘No’, but not there if you said ‘Yes.’

“And his promises, bela, of change in Qui, and seeing new ways in foreign parts. The atu cannot leave Qui, for the gatekeeper cannot leave the gate. So how can he talk of going to Adir, and even Findias? He cannot do it and still be atu. No, bela, those promises were as empty of truth as the new moon is of light.”

As they walked into the sitting room, the door leading to the other suite burst open, and Amunita came running through.

“Lea bela, Lea bela, I want to go home, please take me home.” She was in tears.

“Amunita dear, whatever has happened?”

Amunita threw herself into Lea bela’s arms. “He doesn’t care about me, not at all. He said he never has, that it was all my doing, my dreaming, my being silly. I hate him. He said he’d asked me to come to Qui because the sukkal told him to, not because he wanted to. Of course, I knew that, everyone did, about you and the sukkal, but I did think that that rat cared about me all the same. I hate him.”

“Amunita, what you mean: everyone knew about me and the sukkal?”

“Oh, Lea bela, everyone knew the sukkal wanted you to come to Qui for the atu, and that you had refused. And everyone knows about your sense of, “and she wrinkled her nose, “of honour, and how you rescued the weaver girl. And so, obviously you would come and rescue me.”

“Oh, Amunita, you knew all that and still you did it? How could you!”

“But Lea bela, the atu, he is so … everything. He is tall, he is handsome, he is dashing, he is strong and forceful. He is a real man! We all write love poems to him. We dream about him. Do you not dream about the atu, Lea bela?”

“No, Amunita, I do not dream about the atu. Didn’t you stop to consider the predicament you would land us in?”

“But Lea bela, how could I not think you would fall in love with the atu? Have you not, Lea bela?”

“No, Amunita, I have not fallen in love with the atu. Did you not see how things were between the atu and me yesterday, at the temples?”

“I thought that was just … maidenly modesty, Lea bela. Though I thought it was a bit overdone.”

“A bit overdone!” Her bela looked at Ninsha, then back at Amunita. “I really don’t know what to say, Amunita dear. A woman can have honest, straightforward feelings, you know. She doesn’t always have to be plotting and scheming about men. What you see might be what she is actually feeling, not some, I don’t know, feminine ploy to beguile a man. A woman can have a life as an individual, rather than just being a man’s appendage.”

Amunita looked at her, then covered her mouth and giggled. So did Ibba.

“What?” said Lea bela, then coloured a little. “Amunita, don’t be silly. You know very well what I mean.” Then, “Amunita, I hope you haven’t been seeing this boy here, in Qui?”

“No, Lea bela, of course not. They are even more backward here than in Umar. We’ve been locked up there, in those rooms, since we arrived,” and she gestured to the door. “We’ve hardly seen anyone. Not like you, out every day.”

“There, next to us, all the time? You might have knocked on the interleading door and told us you were safe, Amunita. I have been very worried about you.”

“If I had known Ishimud was playing me false, Lea bela, I would have. But it seemed a good game.”

Her bela sighed. “I do hope you learn some empathy, Amunita, because otherwise you are going to have a very narrow and unfulfilling life. But,” and she looked up, “just now, when the boy was telling you all this, I hope it was not just you and him in your rooms.”

“Oh no, Lea bela, we had a chaperone, an old woman. She brought him, like a naughty puppy, and made him admit all this, to my face. He was terrified of her, and oh, I am not surprised. She was a nasty, ugly old witch with a face like a shelled walnut. I hope I never look like that.”

“There is no need to get personal and unpleasant, Amunita. We all get old and wrinkled.”

“Not you,” muttered Amunita. “Twenty-five and skin like a baby’s. It’s not fair.” She looked up. “She was very rude to me, Lea bela. She was very insulting. She said I had a head as empty as a flagon-”

“-in a dockside tavern at dawn,” said Ninsha, and both Amunita and Lea bela turned to stare at her.

“And that her maid’s head is even emptier,” and the beltu bursuma walked in from Amunita’s rooms, her stick rapping on the floorboards. “But I see that I was wrong. Your head is not empty, girl, it is full of ‘bou shit.”

“Madam, please,” said Lea bela. “Such language!”

“Language, girl? You lie captive in the citadel of Qui, the atu trying to get you into bed, and you worry about language?”

“Madam!” And Lea bela put her hands over Amunita’s ears.

The beltu stared, then her head dropped, she bent over her stick, and her shoulders began to shake. Was she having a fit?

“Lasaleen, Lasaleen,” called Ninsha. She rushed to the beltu, taking one arm.

Her bela took the other. “Madam, are you all right? Amunita, go and get her some water, quickly now. Ibba, was her maid with her, in your rooms? Quickly, go and find her. Madam, breathe deeply and slowly, now. Come, we will walk you over to the sofa and you can sit down. Ninsha, gently and slowly, now. Madam, we will find your maid, and send for your physician.”

But then the beltu raised her head, and they all saw that the fit was of laughter as the shrieks burst out. Lasaleen appeared in the doorway, and stood there, her arms folded, looking at her mistress and shaking her head.

 “Hai, hai, you are a tonic, girl. Who needs a physician? A month with you, and I would be ten years younger. Hai! That girl, whose innocence you are trying to protect, was raised in Adir, with her grandfather’s seraglio next door. She knew more about men and women at the age of ten than you do at five and twenty, I have no doubt. It should be,” and she burst into laughter again, “it should be her hands over your ears.”

The bela stood there looking at the beltu, her head tilted slightly to one side, her eyebrows raised, her hands on her hips.

“Hai, Lea bela,” said the beltu. “Do not begrudge an old woman her moment of ‘fun’. The Dingir know I get little enough of it. Come, sit with me,” and she patted the sofa.

Lea bela did, but sat on the front edge, upright, primly, facing ahead. The beltu reached across and took her hand, looking at her. “If I looked like you I would get fun enough.” Her bela stiffened, but that just seem to encourage the beltu. “Hai, what a time I’d have.”

“Madam, please.” Her bela was ramrod straight on the sofa now, but her hand was still in the beltu’s.

The beltu chuckled. “Just one night: the memories would set me up for a decade.”

“Madam, really, there are young girls here. Really, this topic is not appropriate.”

Another shriek of laughter, and the beltu wiped her eyes with her free hand. Then she sighed. “All right, Lea bela, I will be good. Do I shock you?”

Her bela turned to look at her. She had a slight smile on her lips. She leant across, took the beltu’s other hand and said, “You are a wicked old woman.”

Hai! Did her bela realise that she had just called the beltu bursuma of Qui a wicked old woman, to her face?

A peal of laughter, then the beltu pulled her hands free, reached up to pull Lea bela’s head down, and kissed her on the lips. Hai! If her bela had been shocked before … But she just pulled away, smiling, and shook her head. “That’s enough now, you really must behave yourself.”

A chuckle, and the beltu said, “Enough? If I were twenty years younger, I would demand more than that. Much more.”

“You said you would be good.”

“All right, girl, I will. I won’t shock you any more.”

Her bela shook her head, smiling. “I know you do it on purpose.”

The beltu chuckled. “I do, and it has done me a world of good.”

“I know that too, Ashluta beltu, and I am glad of it. You remind me of my grandmother.”

“Oh? Was she also…”

“No, madam, she was not.” Another peal of laughter from the beltu. “But she also was a strong, forthright woman, and had a wonderful sense of fun. She also loved to shock her family. So thank you for that memory,” and she leant across and kissed the beltu’s forehead.

Ninsha watched them. Every day she learned more about her bela’s sensitivities, how she could respond differently to different people, but still remain very much herself. And the beltu bursuma? Was she really that way inclined? Or was she, as in her wall painting with the missing citadel, just saying, Is this real or am I deluding you? Or was she testing Lea bela? Or just having ‘a bit of fun?’ Or all three?

The old woman reached up and patted her bela’s cheek. “Hai, what a mix of spirit and gentleness, goodness and fair beauty. No wonder the boy has lost his head. I would have too, at his age. But still, even at my age, I got, in a finger width of candle, what he could not get in three days: a kiss from the moon maiden. So who is cleverer?”

“I don’t know why Qui puts up with you.”

Another chuckle. “They have no choice, Lea bela. Just like my grandson. He will not weep over my coffin. I told him, yes, I told him that a gazelle cannot be caged. She will just die. And you, here, in the seraglio? You are clever, I knew that, and much deeper than I thought, but that would not help you here. You would be a swan among the wildcats. They would claw you to shreds. They would chew you up and spit you out. You have refused him, yes?”

“Yes, Ashluta beltu, I have refused him.”

The beltu looked at her. “Yes, you have courage as well, girl. It could not have been easy. I can imagine his anger. But I could not speak until you had. But now I must leave you, and tomorrow you must leave Qui, with me, all of you. I spend the winter in Umar, but you will go on to Adir. We start at dawn. I will send word to have your carriage made ready. So go and pack.” She stood up, gave Lea bela a kiss on one cheek and a pat on the other, nodded to Ninsha and, chuckling, hobbled out on her stick. Lasaleen winked at Ninsha and followed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be appreciated


	23. The iron jaws close

Only the gate guards acknowledged their passing, and then only by closing the great, iron studded doors behind them. The thud of the timber against the frame and the clang of the great bolts being shot home were some of the most welcome sounds Ninsha had ever heard. Her bela’s face was white and set, and she sat back from the windows, as if afraid of being seen. Ninsha, looking out ahead, saw that a single body now swung from the gibbets. She stood up against the window to block her bela’s view as they passed it, both Amunita and Ibba staring at her.

Only when they were halfway to the summit did Lea bela look out, at a bend in the trail, at Qui below.

“Look, girls. It’s so majestic, perched there above the turquoise lake, with its rose towers and turrets covered in snow, framed in dark green forest. It’s like a fairytale castle. Who would think it is really a prison, a place of dark and danger.”

“It even has a fairytale prince,” said Amunita.

And Amunita as one of the bad sisters. Did she still not realise what a dogpit she had landed Lea bela in?

“A prison,” Ninsha said. “Dark and danger, dark power, dark purposes.”

“Fairytale castles often are all of those things, Ninsha,” said her bela.

“If we are in a fairytale, bela, it is one which is back to front, with the princess rescued by the-”

Her bela smiled. “I don’t think the beltu bursuma wouldn’t mind being called a wicked witch, Ninsha. I think she would laugh. It’s good to feel safe, isn’t it.”

Ninsha did not reply, and her bela said, “Ninsha?”

“I will feel safe, bela, when the doors of House Taskarin in Adir close behind us.”

“That’s silly, Ninsha,” said Amunita. “We are in the middle of Ashluta beltu’s caravan. We are right behind her wagon. Who can touch us here?”

“I wish we were in her wagon, sitting next to her.”

Amunita shrugged. “There wasn’t space for all of us, not with her bed and all. This carriage takes four nicely. It is much better than a smelly old wagon.”

The truth was that Amunita was terrified of the beltu, and had insisted on travelling in the carriage. Lea bela, saying she was too young to travel alone, had decided to travel with her, against Ninsha’s advice.

Still, it was true they were in the middle of the convoy, and it was hard even for Ninsha to see how the atu could get at her bela there.

But a few miles on the order changed. An axle on the carriage was binding. The sirdar would not stop the train, for the wagons were slow and they had a long way to go. The carriage, he said, was light and fast, and would easily catch them up. No, he would not ask the beltu, for she was asleep. Yes, of course, he would leave them a guard, and they could take their place behind the beltu’s wagon, when they caught up. So their driver pulled over the side, and got down to grease the axle while the wagons rumbled past.

This was not good. Ninsha leant out of the window to watch back down the trail, until Amunita complained of the cold. Then she got out and stood in the snow, watching, expecting the atu to appear with a band of horsemen at any moment.

They caught up with the caravan where the trail wound around the cliffs on a ledge cut into the rock high above the Lake of Qui. The ledge was only just wide enough for a wagon, so they had to stay at the back until the trail widened at the top of the pass. Amunita, frightened by the precipitous drop just outside her window, had changed places with Ninsha. Even her bela leaned back.

This suited Ninsha, for she could stare back along the trail, and watch for the atu. She could see a hundred paces or so, before everything blended into the mist. More and more her unease grew. They should have been in the middle of the wagon train. Something was going to happen, she knew.

 

It happened when they were crossing a wooden bridge spanning a ravine at the inner corner of a switchback. Faces appeared at the windows on both sides of the carriage, the doors were jerked open, and strong hands reached in, plucking them from their seats, and throwing them from the bridge. Onto the rocks, was this murder then? But two pairs of arms caught them, lowered them to the ground, and thrust them under the bridge. Ninsha opened her mouth to scream, but a big, muddy, male hand covered it. She bit into the flesh. The man swore, and turning her, slapped her hard.

“Any more of that, girl, and your lady gets her throat slit from ear to ear.” It was the gallu.

Across from her, her bela was standing, tall and straight, but with the blade of a knife held against her throat. A filthy hand was across her mouth too. A few moments later their luggage appeared, thrown down from the carriage, and passed underneath the bridge.

What now? How could they get away with this? In a few moments the driver of the wagon in front of them would see the carriage was not there, and shout the news to the sirdar. Then a troop of men would come back to investigate.

A clatter of hooves and the rattle of iron tyres on wooden planks, and the carriage started off again, coming into view as the ledge curved around again.

Beyond, coming out of the next switchback, they could see the wagon train slowly moving along the ledge. The carriage disappeared around the bend. Then, above them, a man called, “Let them go,” and a few moments later, “Kill, kill!”

Four dark creatures came into view, heads to the trail. Wolves.

Ninsha never forgot what happened next. The wagon train had reached the outermost point of the switchback when the carriage appeared, about a hundred paces behind, the horses in a trot. The four wolves came into view, fast and low, passed the carriage, and began snapping and springing at the horses. The horses broke into a gallop, neighing, the empty carriage swaying and bouncing along the narrow trail, the driver just sitting there - was he tied up, then?

They reached the last wagon, on the curve, could not pass and, at full gallop with the weight of the carriage behind them, could not stop. It looked as if they didn’t even slow, in their terror of the wolves. They plunged over the precipice; horses, carriage and all, falling freely until the mist swallowed them up.

Shouting came from the wagons and the convoy stopped. Men were walking around, peering over the precipice, looking at the tracks.

“If you try to scream, or make any noise at all, I will slit your throats,” said the gallu, and he cuffed Ninsha across the head. “Gag them and bind them.”

A cloth smelling of sweat and tasting of salt was thrust into Ninsha’s mouth, and another, a thin strip, holding it in place was tied behind her neck. Her hands were tied behind her back.

The gallu turned to her bela, and she said, staring at him, “You killed that coachman in cold-blood, and those horses.”

He bowed to her, and said, “I would do a lot more than that, lady Lea, to lay my hands on you.” She drew back, and he said, “To return you to the atu, from whose tender care you have strayed. But count your blessings, lady Lea. My original plan was to take only you and leave your maid and the others in the carriage. But my master considered that wasteful. Now, my lady, I apologise for this.” He took off his neck cloth. “Open your mouth, lady Lea. I hope that you do not find the taste of my sweat too disgusting.” Her bela closed her eyes and opened her mouth. She stood quite still and unresisting as the man gagged her and bound her hands behind her back.

“Hold your blade to her throat, man,” said the gallu. Then he shook Ninsha hard, and said, “You are a troublemaker, girl, but if you utter a squeak, your lady gets it. Don’t think I won’t do it. The atu wants your moon maiden, and if he can’t have her, he doesn’t care what happens to her.”

Soon they heard a crunching of snow, and the thud of boots on the planking of the bridge, then voices. “See the spoor? They must have come down the ravine.”

“The devils. Moving to winter hunting grounds. Will she go back to Qui herself, and send us to find the bodies, do you think?”

“Too late in the season, the weather is changing too quickly. Already we are later than usual, because she delayed for the Findian beltu. Leave it for a couple days, and we’d not through ‘til spring. And the bodies could be anywhere down the cliffs. No, she will go on. Send a messenger back to Qui.”

Hai, couldn’t she do something? This was the last chance to save her bela. Ninsha thrust backwards and the man holding her fell backwards over a boulder, dragging her with him.

“What was that?”

Silence, then a plopping sound. “Just snow falling from the branches, lad. Happening all the time.”

Ninsha looked around for a rock to kick, anything to make another noise, but the gallu, hissing to draw her attention, drew his knifepoint around her bela’s throat, leaving a thin line of blood. Then he rested the point in the hollow at the base of her neck.

Ninsha stared at him, then nodded. Watching her, his knifepoint in her bela’s skin, he waited until the voices receded. Then he released her bela, strode up to her and dragged her upright. “You little bitch. Nothing but trouble. I’ll get rid of you right now. Throttle you and throw you over, say you went down with the carriage.”

Strangled grunting came from her bela. She was staring at the gallu and shaking her head violently.

The gallu thrust Ninsha back against the man who had been holding her. “And you, you useless arsewipe. Can’t even keep a girl under control. You can walk back to Qui. Now shut up, all of you. We wait for the messenger to pass, then get the sleds and go.”


	24. The whipping

Next morning, as they sat staring at the snow falling into the seraglio garden, Lea bela said, softly, “Yesterday at this time, Ninsha, we were on our way to freedom. Now, back in the cage. What am I doing here? I’m an ethnologist. How did I ever come to be captive in a castle in the mountains, trying to fend off a feudal warlord who wants to add me to his harem? It’s just not … real, it can’t be.”

Ninsha stayed silent. What could she say? It was all too real.

“That poor coachman was murdered with no more concern than if he was an insect. No doubt he had a wife and children, but to the atu he was just something to be used and discarded. We are at the atu’s mercy, that he can snuff us out in the same way. Could we be in a worse position, Ninsha? Could we?”

“Yes, Lea bela, we could. We could be in a mountain lodge, held for the atu’s pleasure. He could do what he liked there, and no one would ever know. Instead we are here, in your same rooms again. The soldiers at the gate saw us return, the women of the seraglio heard us. By now, all Qui knows we are here. This means that the atu has not resorted to violence against you.”

“Ninsha, what about that poor coachman, and the horses?”

“Bela, I think that the gallu answers to the sukkal. I do not think that the atu would resort to murder. When all is said and done, he is still the lugal, and must behave like one. Besides, he fears his grandmother too much. I think this is the sukkal’s work.”

“Even if that is so, the atu knows that I am here, unwilling, and against his grandmother’s express wishes. If he fears her, why would he do that?”

“This is true, bela. I do not understand it. Perhaps he hopes to have persuaded you by the time she returns in six months, to stay here with him in Qui. The beltu bursuma would then accept the situation.”

“How can he hope that? If I refused my hand when he asked me, how can he think I will give it now that I have been brought back here by force?”

“Circumstances, bela.”

“I cannot think of any circumstances which would make me change my mind.”

She would have to spell it out. “No child of the atu’s, bela, would ever be allowed to leave Qui. The same would apply to a child yet to be born. Once born, the mother might be allowed to leave, but the child would not. Many women would choose to stay with their child.”

“I understand you, Ninsha. Such a situation will never occur with my consent.”

 

Hai, her bela could play the great lady with the best of them. In the suite she had been frightened and downcast by the reversal of their fortunes, but now her step firm and brisk, her back straight, her head high and her face set.

She swept into the audience room and confronted the atu. “Sir, you have abducted me from your grandmother’s protection against her explicit wishes. Why?”

“I?” said the atu. “It is the temple that has returned you to your rightful place.”

“Yes, madam,” said the sukkal, “you left without obtaining the permission of your temple. Such is not allowed for a priestess of Enki.”

Lea bela had ignored him while he was speaking, but now stared at him. “What is this? I am not a priestess of any Temple.”

“Did you not claim to be a priestess of the Temple of Enki, god of learning, in order to obtain permission to journey to Umar?”

“I did not. I claimed nothing of the sort. You, sukkal-mah, made such a supposition in the marketplace in Adir.”

“You did not deny it, lady Lea, so all took it to be true.”

“I do not believe anyone did. But, should there be any doubt, I deny it now. I am not a priestess, or even an acolyte of any god or goddess.”

The sukkal sighed. “You may deny it to your heart’s content, lady Lea, but the facts stand. Besides, all women are acolytes of Ishtar, simply by virtue of being female. But you, lady Lea, are chosen for a higher honour, that of being Ishtar herself to the atu’s Dumuzi in the sacred marriage of the Festival of Akitu. Together you will ensure the fertility of the land of Aria for next year.”

Lea bela stared at him, then turned to the atu. “I am astonished, atu-en, that you should stoop to such a shameful trick. Did you not agree with the beltu bursuma that if I rejected your marriage proposal, I would be allowed to return with her to Umar? And yet you stood by while I was abducted from the beltu bursuma’s protection, abducted by a foul deception that cost of the life of a man. And here I stand, once again in your prison, while you once again press your suit. Or rather you hide behind the skirts of the sukkal, like a coward, while he does the dirty work for you. The sukkal, to whom the concepts of honesty, truth and justice are unknown. Where is your sense of honour, atu-en? Are you not the lugal of Qui. What would your ancestors, who once ruled Aria, think of their descendant? You blacken the name of Gautian.”

Never, ever could she had spoken like that. To stand there, alone, weak and slender as an Agammu reed, facing down a man of the atu’s power and strength, calling him a coward, challenging his honour: only her bela could do that.

The atu reddened, and his eyes dropped. Then he rose, and bowing to Lea bela, he said softly, “You misunderstand, madam. This is a religious matter, and as such I will leave it to the sukkal to explain.”

As he walked to the door, Lea bela said, equally softly, “I see I was mistaken in you, atu-en. I thought, for all your limitations, you were at least a man of courage. Now I see you are not even that.”

At the door he turned, glanced at her, again lowered his eyes and went out.

As the door closed, the sukkal said, “Thank you, lady Lea, for that accolade. I am pleased to see that even you can recognise my virtues.”

“I wish to return to my rooms, sukkal-mah.”

The sukkal rose and walked to the window. “Certainly, madam. But first, please come here. I wish to show you something. I believe you will find it instructive.”

“I do not wish to see anything that you wish to show me, sukkal-mah.”

“Madam, you will watch this.” The sukkal’s tone, as always, was flat and emotionless. “You may either watch it here, or we will transfer the proceedings to below the windows of your suite. Which would you prefer?”

Her bela stared at him, then walked slowly to the window.

“Your maid, I believe, will also find this informative.” And he gestured for Ninsha to join them at the window.

A whipping post stood in the courtyard below. Tied to it and stripped to the waist, was the man who had held Ninsha captive under the bridge. He was shivering in the cold air. Next to him stood the gallu, a lash in his hand, looking up at the window.

“This man was unable to restrain your maid, my lady, when you were being returned to Qui after your unauthorised departure.” He gave a signal.

The gallu bowed, then, with a full arm swing, brought the lash down on the man’s back. The sharp sound of the impact made her bela flinch, and at the man’s cry her body shuddered. A red line appeared on the man’s back.

“One,” said the sukkal.

The lash fell, the cry came again and another line appeared. Blood was already trickling from the first.

“Two.”

Her bela turned her head away, and stepped back.

“You will watch, lady Lea.”

“I will not. How can you possibly think that forcing me to watch your brutality will make me change my mind?”

“You will watch, lady Lea, for if you do not, your maid will take the place of the man being lashed. After all, the man’s punishment is her fault. We would not subject you to our ‘brutality’, madam, but your troublesome maid is another matter.”

Her bela returned to the window. At her side, away from the sukkal, she held out her hand. Ninsha took it. At every blow and cry, the hand clenched hers convulsively.

“See how the strokes are parallel, each one two fingers width from the last?” The sukkal spoke in a conversational tone, as if describing a pattern in the snow. “He is an artist, this man. As you are, lady Lea. He in pain, you in pencil. Do all Findians have accomplishments like this, lady Lea?”

“You fiend,” she whispered, looking at him. “They call him the devil, but it is you who are the real devil of Qui.”

He bowed to her. “I must disclaim the compliment as unearned, lady Lea. Unearned as yet. Ah, the task is done.”

It was, though where the ten lashes had landed was no longer visible: the man’s back was awash with blood. He must be in a stupor of pain, for he had responded the last two lashes only with grunts, and now hung from the post as if dead.

Her bela turned to face the sukkal. “What is the purpose of subjecting me to this?”

“The citadel of Qui is a military outpost, my lady, and the atu is being distracted from his military duties by something small and insignificant. You. A woman. You had the insolence to refuse him, and more, to leave Qui. I brought you back. Yet even now, you seem to believe you have rights of some sort here. You think you have the right to refuse the atu. You do not. The law is the atu’s law, the atu’s justice is military justice, and the atu’s patience is not unlimited.”

“I wish to return to my rooms.”

“Certainly, madam,” said the sukkal. “When you get there, give thought to the concepts of honesty, truth and justice, and their relevance in this isolated outpost in the mountains. Give thought also to your decision on the atu’s hand. One way or another, madam, you are going to accept it.”

 

Her bela held herself together until the bolt shot home on their door. Then she seemed to deflate like a punctured fish bladder.

Ninsha took her arm, and helped her to the sofa.

“I have never seen a person … physically beaten before, Ninsha.” Her bela’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Who next? Me? You?”

“Bela, he cannot touch you. He dares not. That is why he did it, to frighten you.”

“He succeeded, Ninsha. I am terrified.”

“Bela, we must think on this. If the sukkal can make you be Ishtar in the sacred marriage without your consent, why is he doing this? If he does not need you to agree, why is he trying to make you agree? Something is awry here.”

Her bela shook her head, and just said again, “I am terrified. For myself, for all of us.”

Her bela was too shocked to think clearly. “Bela, the threat is to you, only. Amunita bela is safe, no one has any interest in her. She will be sent back to Adir when the pass opens.”

“And you and Ibba, Ninsha?”

“We are nothing, bela. If our mistresses are safe, we are safe.” That was a lie. They were servants, female and young, and so triply disposable. But her mistress had more than enough to worry about already. The truth was that they were safe only as long as they had value to the sukkal. So why was she, Ninsha, still alive: why had the sukkal not got rid of her? She had been a thorn in the flesh to him. Did he have another use for her?

“I don’t know if I can take many more … demonstrations of brutality, Ninsha. I really don’t.”

“If you show that to them, bela, they will use it against you. They will use it to try to break you.”

Her bela shook her head, and whispered, “They will succeed.”

With her bela in this state of mind, their one hope was captain Masgal. He surely would not stand by while this was happening. But would he know? The sukkal knew Masgal Gautian was his enemy, so would try to keep him in ignorance. How could she get word to him? They were locked in and guarded, she had no doubt, night and day.


	25. The execution

After a night’s rest, her bela was again lady Lea when she entered the audience chamber. This time only the sukkal was there to receive them.

“Where is the atu?” she said. “The summons to an audience came from him, but he is not here.”

“He was called away to other duties, madam. But I act as his proxy. Have you reconsidered his proposal?”

“Does the atu mean to insult me? How can such a matter as this be left to a proxy?” She stood up as if to leave.

“I shall take that as a ‘no’, madam. The door is locked, but while you are up ...” The sukkal rose and, walking to the window, said, “I have further instruction for you, lady Lea. Come here, if you will.”

“I will not. Forcing me to watch brutality will not make me change my mind.”

“You will, lady Lea, for if you do not, your maid will take the place of the man down there. Girl, attend your mistress.”

Her face expressionless, her back stiff, her bela walked to the window, and looked out. Ninsha followed.

This time a scaffold was below. On the platform stood a man with a noose around his neck. Beside the scaffold stood the gallu, looking up at the window. The sukkal nodded and the gallu spoke a word. Beneath the feet of the condemned man a trapdoor opened, and he dropped.

Even before he fell, her bela had turned sharply away. She walked back to the centre of the room. Standing behind her chair, she said, her voice shaking, “What was the purpose of that?”

“Would you not call it justice, lady Lea? That man was the man who released the wolves, the wolves that drove the carriage over the precipice. He caused the coachman’s death, and now he has paid with his own life.”

“Justice? You call that justice?” Her bela’s voice rose. “He did as he was ordered. Who ordered him? The gallu. But who ordered the gallu?”

“I did, madam,” said the sukkal. “As today. No, I do not call it justice. I do not use those infantile terms: justice, morality, truth, the rights of the individual and so on. That philosophy, if such a debased ethos warrants the term, is an aberration, a deviation from the true path. This is not Findias, weak, soft, corrupt. We here have not lost sight of the true purpose of life. But I digress, and to no purpose. All this will be beyond your comprehension, madam. Girl, help your lady sit.”

Ninsha helped her bela back into her chair, gripping her arm tightly to show she was with her, but receiving no responding squeeze of the hand. Her bela’s face was white and she was trembling.

“So, madam.” The sukkal sat back in the chair, his hands behind his head, as if they had been to the window to watch the snow falling. “Do you now have further thoughts on the proposal of the atu’s? We can very easily continue the course of instruction if you so wish. The marketplace in full of men and women, and of course, children. As you observed a few days ago, they are ragged and hungry, but the rags and food will go further if there are fewer of them.”

Her bela stared at him. In the past, it had been with the curled lips, flared nostrils and narrowed eyes of scorn and revulsion, but now it was with creased brows and crinkled eyes of apprehension, fear and … one who has been crushed? Her breath was coming in short gasps.

“I …”

Was she going to submit? Had the shock and horror so demoralised her that she would surrender? Ninsha could think of only one way that might fire her bela’s resolve, but the price was high, and she, Ninsha, would have to pay it.

She gripped her bela’s shoulder and said, “Lea bela, be strong.”

Instantly the sukkal clapped his hands, three times. The door burst open, and three men ran in. One grabbed Ninsha and dragged her towards the door, and as her bela sprang to her feet and turned, another placed himself between her bela and her, spreading arms and legs, and moving so that her bela could not reach her.

“Take her away,” said the sukkal.

“No,” cried her bela, “no, leave her, she has done nothing.”

“Five lashes, I think, as she is only a girl.”

“No! I’m the one you want. Why do you lash her?” Her bela tried to reach her, but the men, without touching her, blocked her way.

“Do not be foolish, lady Lea. How could we possibly lay hands on you? Take the girl away.”

As she was dragged through the doorway, she heard her bela cry out, “You’ll never break me by hurting those I love. Never, never. I will never marry the atu.”


	26. The offer

Her bela loved her? It was worth all the pain she was to suffer to hear that. She loved her bela, of course, how could she not? There was so much to love: the way she had risked herself in Adir for her; her treatment of her, both as a maid and a student of learning; the respect she showed her, a mere tundra girl; and of course, her bela herself: her honesty, her courage, her openness and yes, her vulnerability. And, not least, her trust of Ninsha and her reliance on her.

And now - Ninsha squeezed her eyes tight shut for a moment as she was hurried down the corridor - and now she was, in a small way, going to earn that love.

She could think of only one way break through her bela’s shock. So she had said her words and the sukkal had responded as she thought he would, violently against her. Her bela’s protective instincts and with them her mercurial courage had surged up like a great wave, and she had defied him.

Without human feelings himself, the sukkal was incapable of understanding someone like her bela, who was all feeling.

And now the price must be paid. Down three flights of stone stairs, through three barred gates and along a corridor lit with oil lamps. They passed doors, heavy wooden doors, with small barred windows in them. Then, at the end, they stopped, opened one of the doors and led her in. A guard brought in some oil lamps from the corridor, and set them on ledges in the walls.

The cell had been hewn from the rock, and was small and dank. On one side a plank shelf hung from chains fixed to the wall and in the middle of the room stood a wooden post.

“Here, namkisikil, sit.” The guard pointed at the plank bed. Was this … kindness, sympathy? They’d not treated her roughly so far, letting her walk freely, holding the torches so she could see the stair treads. Perhaps they’d not apply the lash too hard? She sat down, and looked at them.

“Now we wait, namkisikil.”

“Who is to carry it out, do you know?” said one guard to the other.

“Who do you think.”

“It’s not right. Bad enough beating a maid, but letting him do it? She is one of ours. Hai, have we come to this, in Qui, where we stand and watch while renegade foreigners lash our maidens?”

“Shut your mouth, you fool. Yes, it has, and you will be on the whipping post yourself if he hears you, and you and your family thrown out into the snow.”

Dare she ask? “Gardu, gardugal Masgal, is he …”

“Hist,” said the other soldier, turning his head to listen for sounds in the corridor.

There had been none, but the door pushed open, and a tall man walked in, melting snow dripping from his cape. He pushed back his hood.

The gallu. No kindness, no sympathy for her here.

He looked at the guards, and jerked his head at the door. “Out. I will deal with this.”

One man left immediately, but the other said, “Gardugar, you will not strip her? Our laws require that a maiden’s modesty be respected.”

The gallu turned and stared at him, then said, “Five lashes for you. Go!”

As the men’s footsteps faded, the gallu turned to Ninsha. “He’d like to be the guardian of your virtue, girl. Do you think I’m going to ravish you?”

Her heartbeat sped up. “The virtue of a maiden is regarded as a sacred thing in Aria, gallu-gar. Violation is regarded as a blot on the family’s honour, and will be avenged.”

He laughed. “But you are a mere weaver girl, without family. All you have, all you had, was a stepfather who would have sold you to Ishtar, but instead sold you to the faranja, for a few silver coins more. Do you think he cares about your virtue? And even if he did, could do anything against me?”

She stared back at him, but did not speak.

He nodded. “You’ve got guts, girl, and lots of it. You’re smart, too. But not pretty enough for me, so you need not worry.” He went to the door, peered down the corridor, then came back.

“About that, girl, you got nothing to worry about. About your lady, you do. A mountain of worry, girl. But I’ve got a proposition for you. If you want to escape from Qui, I can help you.”

What? The gallu, help them? She stared at him. It had to be another trap.

He nodded. “Yes, I can. I can get you to Umar. You wonder why?”

“Yes, I wonder that.” Like she would wonder if a rabid dog came up wagging its tail.

“Of course you do, you’re not stupid. I’ll tell you. The first wife wants your lady gone.”

This stank like a five-day dead fish. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” He sounded annoyed. “Jealousy, girl. They call your lady the moon maiden. She’ll outshine them all, there in the seraglio. The first wife is top dog, yes, but with a woman like your lady there, beautiful, clever, full of learning? Who’ll have more influence and power over the atu? So the first wife’s asked me to get your lady away.”

“And the atu?” said Ninsha, “and the sukkal, are they not your masters?” And when his eyes narrowed, she added, “My mistress will ask.”

“All right, I’ll tell you. The truth is I’m a bit of a rolling stone, girl, I never spend too long in one place before I move on. Seven years I’ve been here and I’ve had enough of Qui. I’ll take you to Umar, or even to Adir if you like, because I’m going there myself, to take ship back to Findias. With the fee I will get from the first wife, I’ll be nicely set up to buy a little tavern there.”

Hai, did he think anyone with grain of sense would swallow that? Cross the two most powerful men in Qui, and flee across the length of Aria to earn a bribe?

“Look,” he said, “If you are hoping that prettyboy Masgal might do something - yes, I heard you, girl - I’d have to agree with you. If he were here, he’d be making a right uproar. Everyone knows that. So, of course, he’s not here. He was sent away, the day before the old dragon left. He’s over the pass, at the Umar River, dealing with bandits there, neatly out of the way. Even the loverboy has been making a fuss about your lady being brought back, so he is confined to barracks.

“Let me tell you something, girl. The sukkal has brought forward the Festival of Akitu. It is in three days. So your lady is going to marry the atu in three days time, willing or no. It is going to happen, girl, as sure as the sun comes up. So we’re running out of time here. Put it to your mistress, girl. And persuade her. The gatekeeper is at her gate, and he is going to enter, make no mistake. I’m your only hope, girl. Let me know by putting a candle in each of your windows. I will be watching.

“As evidence of my good faith, I’m not going to lash you. That’s risky for me, because if the sukkal finds out, I dance the hemp fandango,” and he encircled his neck with his hands. “But for you we need something, or people will know. So I’m going to cane you. That will hurt, girl, make no mistake, but it won’t break the skin of your pretty back, just raise weals which will go in a month or so.”

“Strip down,” and when she looked up at him, he said, “To your undershirt, girl. I’m not going to touch you, except with this,” and he held up a smooth stick as slender as her little finger. “Your modesty will remain as intact as your virginity. I don’t want to tie you, so hug the post, girl, as you would your lover.”

She hugged the post with all her strength, and squeezed her eyes shut as she waited. She heard the cane swish through the air, then felt it hit her. It felt like a line of burning coals had been held to her back, and she sucked in a gasp of air.

She waited for the second blow, but instead she heard the gallu say, “Seven devils, girl, don’t go stoic on me. Scream as though you’re getting the lash, not loving kisses from this little switch. Now I’ll do it again, and scream your heart out.”

The second strike lay exactly over the first, and the scream came without her trying, the pain was so sharp. Then, in rapid succession the next four blows came and she screamed one long gasping scream. Hai, she never felt pain like this before, not even when the fishhook had caught in her arm, and ripped down the length of it. This felt like she had lain down on a bed of coals.

“Now the blood.”

Was he going to cut her, after all he had said? She tried to look, but the tears blurred her sight. But no, he just ran a finger along the line of each strike, causing her to draw her breath in. Was he smearing blood, blood from somewhere else?

“That’s it, girl. Lots of tears, lots of weeping, lots of gasping.” He touched the cane to her back again, and she gasped. “Yes, like that. Now we’ll carry you back to your mistress.”

 

Her bela was waiting just inside the door of their rooms, and ran to take Ninsha’s hands as soon as it opened, exclaiming. Amunita and Ibba, brave and helpful as ever, had taken one horrified look at her on the litter and retreated to their rooms. Her bela had wanted to cut the undershirt off her, but Ninsha wouldn’t let her. A woman had laboured over the cloth, another over the garment, and Ninsha was not going to destroy it. So they had gone to the washroom, and soaked it off Ninsha’s back.

The bela had exclaimed at the red weals, then said, “But… but… these are not lashes. Ninsha, we saw that poor man’s back; blood, blood everywhere. Your skin is not even broken.”

It was fortunate that that they had got into the habit of speaking in low voices everywhere in the suite. “Smear the ointment, bela, and I will tell you. Hai-hai,” and she winced as cool fingers touched her burning skin.

“Sorry, Ninsha. I am being as gentle as I can.”

“I know you are, bela. Let me tell you of this -hai-hai-hai. It will -hai-hai- distract me.”

“Sorry, sorry, Ninsha, yes, tell me.”

 

When she had finished, her bela said, “If it was anyone else… But the gallu? No, don’t lean back, Ninsha. Tonight you must sleep with your arms around a bolster, on your tummy. Do you think he can be trusted? I mean, escaping, getting to Umar sounds more than wonderful, but … We don’t want to jump from the frying pan into the fire. Oh, sorry, that’s a colloquialism. I mean-”

“I understand, bela. Ours is similar, bela: from the snow to the flame. No, I don’t trust him, bela, not at all. I trust him to act to help himself. He says he is acting for the first wife. So why does she not come and speak to you, bela? Or at least send her maid? But to trust him just on his own words? After all we have seen of his lies and brutality? No, a woman has not sent him. Only an arrogant man could think we would be foolish enough to trust him. It cannot be the atu, clearly, so it must be either the sukkal or the gallu himself.”

“The sukkal? But he is the one pressing me to marry the atu. Why would he want me to escape?”

“Bela, a sukkal’s mind, and especially that sukkal’s mind, has more twists and turns in it than three eels in a bucket, and is more slippery. His bringing you here has never made sense to me. On the surface he has much to lose and little to gain. So we must look below the surface. But below the surface, bela, there is more darkness than midnight, more slime than a cesspit, more false trails than the labyrinth of the great Aurochs. So only he and the Dingir know what he might do, and why. All we know is that there will be a reason for every single step, and that that reason may not make sense to us.”

“Could you not apply that reasoning to the atu, Ninsha?”

“No, bela. The atu has not the cleverness, nor the depth, nor the twisted mind. He is easy to read, if hard to handle.”

“And the gallu?”

“He has the motivation, bela, but the risks are too high for a man like the gallu. No, it must come from the sukkal.”

“What motivation could the gallu have? I can see the risks, yes, but no reason why he should take them.”

“Hai, bela. He has the same motivation as the atu. But the atu is restrained by honour, twisted though it might be. The gallu is restrained by nothing. We cannot trust him.”

“You are right. I think,” her bela looked away, then, back at her, her eyebrows slightly raised, “I believe there only one person I can trust. And I do, Ninsha, absolutely and completely.”


	27. The new maid

“Ibba?” Ninsha suppressed an wince. Was that the pain from Lea bela’s touch as she ran an ointment covered fingertip lightly down a weal? Or the pain from the thought that Ibba would be taking her place with her mistress this morning?

“I’m not risking you in front of the sukkal, Ninsha.” Her bela sounded determined. “You have suffered enough for me. I don’t want to risk Ibba either, but she offered to attend me. I’d rather to go alone,

“Hai, no bela. Take Ibba.” The girl would be too terrified to support Lea bela, but at least she’d be a witness to anything that happened.

A sharp rap at the door and Lea bela turned. “Oh dear, the summons. But don’t worry, Ninsha. I’ve seen enough. The killings, your whipping: how can they think that hurting you would do anything other than make me even more resolved.”

 

How long, thought Ninsha, as the water trickled through the clock. Long was bad, for it meant they were piling pressure on her bela, wearing her down, exhausting her. That was when she was at her most vulnerable. Would they be using new tactics, or hammering away with the old ones? In one way, Ninsha and her bela had been fortunate: the atu and the sukkal, being arrogant men with a low opinion of women, had simply applied coertion. Had they asked and followed the advice of a clever woman like the beltu, her bela’s defences might have fallen. But it was clear as the nose on the face of the statue of Baal in the marketplace that the atu could never match up to her bela in terms of … anything, really: intelligence, sensitivity, depth of character, breadth and subject of interests. He would never win her heart because he could never win her respect.

She went to the window, wincing as her tunic scraped across the weals on her back. It was snowing again, the flakes drifting down to land gently on the paving of the seraglio garden. But for a foul, murderous trick she’d be looking out on the garden of House Gautian in Umar, at the snow settling there, her bela and her happy and safe in the protection of the beltu bursuma. Instead they were here, the walls of Qui and a mountain pass between them and safety. Even if they could get out of the citadel, the snow would be settling deeper, much deeper, up on the pass. No one could travel by wagon now, only by sleigh or sled. Even then travel would be difficult, for the runners would just sink in until some cold nights froze the snow. Was that what the gallu had in mind? Using her sled and her ‘bou? Or did he intend to just take them beyond the city walls, and cut their throats. Well, whatever he intended, it was not going to happen: she would never entrust her bela to the gallu.

 

She turned at the sound of the door opening and ran forward as Lea bela came in. Something was wrong: the audience had been too short. But her bela looked calm and composed.

“Bela-”

“Nothing happened, Ninsha. Again it was just the sukkal. He asked me if I had changed my mind, and when I said no, he called me to the window. He pointed to the sky and said I should look at it, for I would not see it again. Then he let us come back.”

A new tactic: what did it mean. If only she could have been there, she could have judged for herself. And the Festival was now in two days.

“That was all, bela?” She glanced at Ibba.

“He is evil, that man, don’t trust him. Don’t trust anyone,” whispered Ibba.

“Thank you, Ibba,” said Lea bela. “You did very well. Perhaps you should return to Amunita bela now.”

Ibba flushed slightly, but bowed her head, and left. As she passed through the door between the suites, she turned and looked hard at Ninsha.

What did that mean? Ibba was jealous and resented Ninsha, she had know that since the first day, but that look held something more. And what had she meant by saying don’t trust anyone? It was not like Ibba to carry on so. Something new was lurking, something Ibba knew about, and she was trying to warn Ninsha.

“Ninsha, let me treat your back again. I can tell you what happened while I am doing it. Go into the bedroom. I will get the ointment from the bathroom.”

 

She was applying it with featherlight touches along each weal, when Ibba came in with a glass of water.

“Why, thank you, Ibba. That’s very thoughtful of you.” Her bela drank the water, then turned to Ninsha. “I think I’ll have a rest now, Ninsha. I didn’t sleep well last night. We can put on more ointment this evening.”

 

They had tried, but the strain of the past days must have exhausted her bela. She had been half asleep, and so clumsy in applying the ointment that half Ninsha’s back had been covered with the sticky beeswax. Eventually Ninsha had told her that her back was all right, and persuaded her to go back to bed.

 

 


	28. The wages of Ibba

The next morning, Lea bela seemed no better. She was lethargic and unresponsive, but when Ninsha had asked her if she was well, she’d said, “Of course, Ninsha. Why wouldn’t I be well?”

What was this? Worried and stressed yesterday, and now unconcerned? Had she been drugged? How could that be? Ninsha had shared all her food, using the same dishes, as she had always done.But at breakfast she’d not allowed Lea bela to eat anything she hadn’t tasted first. As always, Ninsha had found no taint of something not right.

They were not halfway through when someone rapped on their door. A eunuch was there with a message that her bela was expected at an audience right away.

“But she is not well,” said Ninsha. “She cannot go anywhere today.”

The eunuch shrugged and stepped aside. A carrying frame was propped against the corridor wall. Hai: how had they known it might be needed? Somewhere, somewhere was treachery!

“We will carry her, if need be. Bring your bela out, girl or we will come in and fetch her.”

“You will not!” said Ninsha, but the eunuch looked past her and said, “Good. Bring her, girl.”

Ibba was standing behind her, her arm around Lea bela.

Ninsha turned on her. “Did you know about this?”

“No, they only told me a little while ago to attend Lea bela.” But she would not look Ninsha in the eyes.

“I will go. I will attend to my mistress,” said Ninsha.

“No,” said the eunuch. “This girl goes, not you.”

“Lea bela,” said Ninsha, “they are taking you to see the sukkal.”

“All right.”

“But Lea bela, you are not well. You cannot see anyone.”

“Enough, girl,” said the eunuch. “Your bela said she is all right. Go now.” He took her shoulders and held her to one side as Ibba brought her bela out, then thrust her inside, closing and bolting the door.

Ninsha hammered on the door, crying out, “Bela, bela, don’t go,” but the eunuch said, through the door, “Quiet, girl. Do you want another whipping? That won’t help your mistress.”

This stank, stank, stank. What would her bela grant the atu, in this state? Would she deny him anything? Hai, she should have resisted more, made such a scene by screaming and fighting they would have left her bela alone.

 

But the water clock had only made half of one revolution when the door opened, and Ibba led her bela in.

Ninsha rushed forward, took her bela’s other arm, and helped her to the ottoman.

“What happened?” she said.

Ibba was already hurrying away to the interleading door. She raised her hands. “Nothing, Ninsha, nothing. The atu was not there. The sukkal saw she was not well, so sent her back.”

What? “I don’t believe you. Tell me what happened.”

But Ibba had reached the door, went through and closed it, and Ninsha heard the bolts slide to.

She ran to the door and hammered on it. “You bitch, something happened. What was it?” Only silence came from the other suite.

Ninsha returned to her bela: she sat slumped on the ottoman, looking ahead, her face vacant.

“What happened, bela? What happened with the sukkal?”

“Nothing, Ninsha.”

“Lea bela, are you all right?”

“Yes, Ninsha, I am all right.”

She was not all right, not at all, but at least her clothing looked as though it had not been disturbed.

 

They had eaten, Ninsha literally spoon feeding her bela - after tasting every dish, all round, herself - when a knock at the door summoned her again.

The eunuch was standing there again, holding a rack of brightly coloured garments. “Here, girl, wedding clothes for the beltu.”

Ninsha stared at him. “Wedding clothes?”

“Yes, wedding clothes. For a marriage, the sacred marriage. To the atu of Qui. Your beltu. At the festival tomorrow. Do you understand, girl, or are you stupid as well as foolish? Make sure she is washed and made beautiful. Use that essence of citrus oil of yours, the atu likes it. The pitch ball for hair removal is in the oilskin. Do it properly, girl, all over, for if you don’t, I will have to do it myself. Someone will be here early tomorrow, to check. Have the beltu ready at midday tomorrow, washed, dressed, hair done, everything. The other girl, the new maid, she will help you. Here,” and he thrust the rack at her, pushed her back, and closed the door.

Wedding! Ninsha turned. There, kneeling in front of her bela, making her drink from a cup, was Ibba.

Ninsha dropped the clothes and, running forward, ripped the cup from Ibba’s hand, and gave her the hardest slap across her face that she could. “You, you bitch, it was you who betrayed Lea bela.”

Ibba screamed and backed away, then turned and ran.

“Stop,” yelled Ninsha, and sprang after her.

Ibba had just reached the interleading door when Amunita appeared.

Ninsha grabbed Ibba, and thrust her against the wall. Ibba was both taller and heavier than Ninsha, but she had not spent her childhood roping caribou. She gasped as Ninsha dug her fingers into her arms.

“What are you doing,” shouted Amunita, “leave her alone. Get away from her, tundra girl. Do you hear me, get away from my  maid.” She gave Ninsha a push, but Ninsha gave her such a glare that she stepped back, eyes wide.

Looking at Ibba, Ninsha said, “Ibba has betrayed Lea bela. She has betrayed us all, Amunita bela. She has sold, yes, Ibba has sold Lea bela into slavery to the atu. What did the sukkal pay you, Ibba? Twenty-nine pieces of silver, a tiny sum for such a prize? Or just the promise that you would be the new beltu’s maid?” Ninsha dug her fingers into Ibba’s arm again. “Ibba, Amunita bela, has drugged Lea bela with that water, that cup you see on the table.”

“What! Is that where you went yesterday afternoon, you slut? Is that what that phial is, in the washing room? You bitch!” And she gave Ibba a backhanded slap across her face.

“Hai, hai, bela.” Ibba tried to twist away, but Ninsha held her fast. “But bela, you wanted Lea bela to marry the atu yourself, you said so. You told that boy.”

“Of course I did, you stupid slut, but that was before the jackal lied and cheated. How dare you do something like this without asking me! You are my maid! How dare you!”

“She is not your maid, Amunita bela. You have no maid any more. The eunuch says she is Lea bela’s maid now.”

“What? What do you say?”

“Ibba,” said Ninsha, “what happened today with Lea bela?” And she dug her fingers into Ibba’s arms again.

“Hai, hai, Ninsha, don’t do that, it is so painful. I will tell you, I will tell you.”

“Oh, I can tell you that,” said Amunita. “This slut has told me. Lea bela signed something, with the sukkal.”

“Marriage papers,” said Ninsha, and dug her fingers into Ibba’s arms with all her strength.

Ibba screamed.

“But if she was drugged, it is not legal,” said Amunita.

“It is legal enough for the atu. Once Lea bela is with child, it doesn’t matter if it is legal or not: it is too late.”

Too late, too late. Unless … Hai, they were at the nadir, and the choice was between the devil and the darkness, the gallu and the harem. But to go with the gallu? Death or something much worse than the harem was more than a possibility there. But there also was the chance of freedom, and the harem offered nothing but cold stone walls and chains. Chains of the spirit. ‘You cannot cage a gazelle. She will just die.’ The beltu was right. Lea bela’s spirit was Lea bela. Chain that and she would waste away.

“Amunita bela, please fetch that phial from your washroom.”

“Yes!” said Amunita, glaring at Ibba. “We will treat you as you treated Lea bela, you slut.”

When she returned with a little grass phial, Ninsha said, “Put three drops in the cup, Amunita bela, please.”

“Hai, no,” said Ibba. “It already has three drops. That is the dose, the sukkal said.”

And Lea bela had already had more than half. “Three drops, please, Amunita bela,” said Ninsha.

“Yes! We will teach you to betray us, you slut,” and Amunita measured three droplets into the cup.

“And now another two, Amunita bela.”

“Hai, no, it will kill me,” cried Ibba. “I will never wake!”

“Good riddance,” said Amunita bela, but she looked at Ninsha, uncertain.

“Do it, Amunita bela. It will not kill Ibba, it will just make her sleep for a long time. Do it, and bring it. And you will drink it, Ibba, or I will slit your throat here and now.” And she squeezed into Ibba’s arms again.

“Hai, hai,” and trembling, Ibba took the cup and drank the water.

“Amunita bela, please take three tapers and place them in each of the windows.”

“Why? It is still daytime.”

“Just do it, Amunita bela. I’ll explain later. No time now.”

Amunita glared, but did as she was told. By the time she had finished, Ibba was sagging in Ninsha’s arms.

“Help me get this traitor to her bed. She is too heavy for me alone. We will leave her there.”

When they returned to Lea bela suite, Amunita said, “What is going on? How can you take it into your hands to act like this, to hit my maid, to punish her for something she has done wrong, for what she has done to your bela. It is for me to punish her, not you. You don’t just…”

Ninsha shut her ears to the torrent of words. Something she had ‘done wrong?’ Was the girl capable of seeing past her own offended dignity to realise that her maid, in one act of betrayal, had undone everything Lea bela had been fighting for since she came to Qui? And condemn her to a world which would certainly kill her?

And had Ninsha just done the same thing? She was putting her bela’s life, and her life, into the hands of a man who she knew was capable of anything. Would he just take them somewhere in the citadel, rape her bela, then murder them all? Was she throwing her bela’s life away? Better to be in the harem than wolf bait in the snow. What would her bela do? She’d discuss it with her, Ninsha, and they would reach a decision. What would her bela say now, drugged and incapable of anything? To that, if nothing else, she knew the answer: “Use your own judgement, Ninsha. All you can do is your best.” Well, she was. The only - twisted - consolation was that if Lea bela was left for wolf bait, she would be too.

Would the gallu even see her signal? If he did, would he act on it? He’d made the offer two days ago. Was it too late now? If he could still fix the escape, how would he let them know? How would they escape? In a sled? The nights had been cold, yes, so the snow was hardened, but still they would leave tracks a child could follow.

Then Amunita was shaking her. “Are you listening to a word I am saying, you stupid tundra girl?”

“Amunita bela, the less you know the better.”

“What! You ignore me, you hit my maid, torture my maid, drug my maid, and then you won’t tell me why? I demand you tell me.”

“Don’t shout, bela, there may be spies.”

“Of course there are spies. There are always spies in a seraglio. And I don’t care. I demand-”

Ninsha raised her open hand, and Amunita stopped and stepped back, glaring at her. Hai, did the girl think she was going to be slapped? But Ninsha had heard a sound over Amunita’s enraged demands. She went into the hall. There, on the floor at the white door, was a slip of paper.

_Midnight_ _. Dress for snow. Bring only one small bag each._


	29. Foolishness cast in stone

Ninsha closed her eyes for a moment. It was going to happen. Amunita would have to know.

As she entered the living room, Amunita said, “Tundra girl, I demand-”

Ninsha raised her hand, and Amunita stopped, glaring at her. “I will tell you everything now, Amunita bela. But we must talk quietly. You know that the atu wants to marry Lea bela-”

“Of course I know that, tundra girl. All Qui knows that.”

“Quietly, Amunita bela. And that Lea bela has refused-”

“She is foolish. Any girl-”

Ninsha raised her hand, and Amunita stopped. “If you don’t keep your voice down, Amunita bela, I cannot tell you.”

Amunita glared at her, but said, “All right.”

“Yesterday Lea bela refused again, once and for all-”

“She is being silly. She-”

“Amunita bela, listen, please. You asked me to tell you and I am telling you. She refused, and so the sukkal bribed Ibba to betray her, to give her drugs which would make her agree. So this morning, drugged, Lea bela signed to marry the atu.”

“That is good. It is good that she should marry the atu, he is-”

“Amunita bela, Lea bela does not want to marry the atu.”

“Oh, she will change her mind. When she sees all the clothes and the jewels and the servants and how people bow to her, I know she will change her mind.”

This girl’s foolishness was cast in stone. Her mind had the depth of a rain puddle on a paving stone. She was as stupid, quite as stupid, as the atu.

“Amunita bela, Lea bela does not want to marry the atu. When she was not drugged, she refused him again and again and again.”

“That is silly. He-”

Hai! Ninsha’s hand ached to slap her. It would be a wonderful feeling. A full arm swing, the stinging crack, the red marks appearing on her face, the foolish girl’s shock. She could put all the anger, all the fears and frustration of the past days into it. And Amunita deserved it a hundred times over. Right from when they had first met in the weaver shop in Adir, Amunita had deserved a good, hard slap. And even more now, because it was her foolishness that had landed them in this dragon pit. But however satisfying it would be, it would not help Lea bela. Still, Ninsha had to get this message home. Time was too short, the situation too far gone to put up with this girl’s mindless insistence.

“Amunita bela, will you please listen. _Lea bela does not want to marry the atu._ Not for all his jewels, not for all his handsomeness, not for all his wealth and power. She is not a silly Arian girl, she is an adult, a clever, educated woman. She knows what she wants and she does not want the atu. Do you understand, Amunita bela? She does not want to marry the atu.”

Amunita glared at her. “How dare you talk to me like that? Do you think I am just a stupid servant like you?”

“I dare, Amunita bela, because the time for talking is over. At midnight I am leaving with Lea bela. We are escaping from Qui.”

Amunita’s eyes widened. “How can you escape from Qui? That is impossible.”

Without speaking, Ninsha passed her the note.

“This is real? Really real?”

“Yes. At midnight I am leaving with Lea bela. We are escaping from Qui.”

“But how? How did you fix this? With whom?”

Ninsha shook her head. “It does not matter, Amunita bela. All that matters is that we are going.”

“If you are going, I am coming too.”

What! “Amunita bela, you are not in danger. You are safe here. Why should you want to risk coming? It will be dangerous, very dangerous. We might die. I would not be doing this with Lea bela if there was any other way, any other way at all.”

Amunita’s face took on its usual querulous look. “I’m coming. Even now, nobody knows, nobody cares about me. All they talk about is Lea bela, I am just ‘that other girl.’ That jackal of a boy lied to me, and so did the sukkal. The atu hardly knows I exist, and cares less.”

“Amunita bela, you are the niece of the lugal of Adir. Nobody will dare harm you. You are safe here.”

Amunita shook her head. “Nobody is safe in Qui. This place is not like Adir, it is savage. You think I have not seen the whipping posts in the marketplace, hot with fresh blood? You think I have not noticed the maimed people, the cripples: hands, feet? The people, the ragged people, have you looked into their eyes? The women of Ishtar, sitting there, staring at the cobbles, like they were waiting for the gallows. Some of them were even barefooted.

“This is a bad place, Ninsha. They whipped you, Lea bela’s own maid, and they drugged Lea bela. If they can do that to her, what can they do to me, who am so much littler than Lea bela, with all her cleverness, with all her … grace and beauty.” Hai, it must have hurt Amunita to admit that. “The smallest mouse in Qui knows about Lea bela. Who knows about me? Even now they lock me in and just feed me, like an animal in a cage. If I stay here I will just vanish. And the atu is going to be furious. He will torture me to find out what I know, which is nothing. You say it is dangerous, that we might die, Ninsha. But I have seen, yes, I have seen how you care for Lea bela, like she was your own mother, your own sister, and I do not think you would take her if she was going to die. So I am prepared to risk it. I am coming with you, Ninsha.”

So there was some depth to Amunita’s mind, after all. And she seemed determined. But what would the gallu say? He was expecting two, not three. Though Amunita was much lighter now than she had been in Adir. She had lost weight on the journey, and more in Qui. And of course, Lea bela had come to Qui to fetch Amunita. She would not want to leave her.

Amunita was looking at her, questioningly, unsure of herself.

Ninsha sighed. “We can ask the guide. He might refuse. But … he might not. In the meantime, Amunita bela, you should go and pack. As you saw from the note, only one small bag each.”

 

But as midnight approached, she heard Amunita coming, dragging something to Lea bela’s rooms. A trunk, a baggage trunk.

“I could not possibly leave all my clothes behind, Ninsha. Your guide, whoever he is, will just have to accept that.”

Ninsha turned away. The glimpse of sense she had seen had been a flicker, like the tiny fountain which springs up when a pebble is dropped into a still pond. Now they were back to the old Amunita again. This girl would not survive two days in the wild.

Was this what Amata beltu had meant when she said wisdom came from the tundra? Ninsha could see the situation, could explore it, could decide what to do. Amunita, raised in Adir, could not. She could not see beyond her own silly self. Would she be different if she had been raised on the tundra? Yes. Different or dead.

Midnight came and midnight passed. Ninsha sat on the ottoman, with her sleeping bela, dressed for snow, two panniers of extra winter clothes on the floor beside them. She had no food, she had no water. She did have the little sleeping drug phial. It was small and easily hidden and she was putting them into a situation where she needed every advantage she could possibly get. Amunita too, had a pannier of emergency clothing, packed with much complaining, but sat on the trunk she was determined to take. She kept asking Ninsha when the man would come, as if Ninsha could pluck the answer out of the air.


	30. Chicken-brain

At a half of the hour past midnight, the white door creaked open, and the gallu, wearing the green canvas cape, walked in. He took one look at Amunita and said, “What the bloody hell is that stupid little brat doing here? I’m not taking her. You and the lady, that’s all. She stays here. And I want no witnesses.” He started walking towards her, and Amunita shrank back.

Hai, hai, why hadn’t she thought of this? If the gallu’s story about leaving Qui was true, witnesses wouldn’t matter. But if he was coming back, they would. And she had known his story was a lie. He would just slit Amunita’s throat and slide her body under the bed.

“No!” she said. “No. We need her. I need help with my bela. She has been drugged, she can do nothing. I need help. She has to come.”

The gallu turned and looked at her. “She is useless, girl. She has less brain than a chicken. She just moons over loverboy, too dumb to see he never cared a fig for her. Hell, it was her pathetic foolishness that got you into this mess in the first place.”

“No, she must come.”

“Seven devils, girl, she’ll be no help at all. She’ll just be dead weight, like she has all her life. I’m not taking her.”

“Then nobody goes. If she doesn’t go, we don’t come.” Would he call her bluff? Was it a bluff? Leaving Amunita behind was one thing, but leaving her dead?

“You stupid little bitch, you’d risk your lady for this piece of jackal shit? I don’t have space for her.”

Hai, a wedge was in: she must drive it.

“She is light. We are all light. All three together, we don’t weigh much more than you by yourself.”

“Damn you, girl, who are you to argue with me anyway? I could just take your lady and go.”

“And how will you get her away? Who will help you with her? Your master had her drugged, she is ill, she might die. Who will look after her? She can’t anything for herself. Nothing at all. And that’s why I need her help,” and she jerked her head towards Amunita.

“I can help you with her.”

Now she must really go out on the half sawn branch. “You! I wouldn’t trust you within ten paces of her.”

He stared at her, then put his hands on his hips, threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve got guts, girl, I’ll say that for you. No wonder they all hate you. You sit there with nothing, and bargain like you have everything.”

He turned to Amunita. She was just sitting there, her eyes wide and fixed on him, her hands over her mouth. He grabbed a handful of her hair, jerked her upright, and drew a knife from his belt. Hai, was he going to kill her after all? Amunita opened her mouth to scream.

“Shut up!” and he backhanded her across the face. Then he held the knife to her eyes, and said, “One peep out of you, girl, and you’re dead. Got that?”

Amunita gave a jerky nod. Hai, she must be speechless with fright.

“The little miss here says she needs you. I don’t. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, so give me just one excuse and I’ll slit your throat like a chicken and throw you out for the wolves to feed on. Until that happens, you keep your stupid mouth shut, you follow me, and you obey orders. Got that, chicken-brain?”

Amunita nodded again

He turned to Ninsha. “That orange blossom oil that your lady uses, go and get it.”

What? “Why?”

“Hell, girl, just do as you’re told. Do you want all the sluts in the seraglio pretending to be your moon maiden when they’re in bed with the atu? They’d love to, believe me. Go, get it. And hurry.”

She did. She was not going to leave her bela alone with him for a moment longer than she had to. He was standing at the ottoman, and when she appeared, picked up her bela as easily as if he were picking up a lamb. He slung her over his back, so she was resting on his shoulders, like a butcher carrying a carcass. She did not respond, just lay there limply, eyes closed. Hai, he needed no help to get her away: he could just have slit their throats and walked off with her, like he had said.

“Let’s go. You come last,” and he pointed at Ninsha. So he did not trust Amunita. Because she was foolish and might fall behind, or because she might betray them? Maybe both: the gallu was not a man who trusted others.

The gallu started up the stairs, and Amunita, giving Ninsha a wide-eyed look, followed him wordlessly, without even a glance at the trunk she had been so determined to take. Hai, she had learned more about the realities of life in the last five minutes than in the fifteen years before that. Insulted, manhandled, slapped, her life threatened: and she could do nothing about it.

Ninsha picked up the two panniers and followed them, pulling the white door to behind her. If ever she saw this suite again, it would be their prison cell. They would never leave it again.

 

Where was he going? This was not the way to the entrance hall. They were climbing up stairs, not down, many, many flights, up and up, and along passages lit only by the lamps he and she carried. They must have left the palace, and be in the defensive part of the citadel. They walked quickly too. Amunita was gasping on the stairs, though not daring to complain. They followed him up long, dank passages hewn from the rock, with stone floors, walls and ceiling, bare and unplastered. Sometimes they passed closed doors and her lamplight caught the glisten of cobwebs. Sometimes there were no doors, just openings, and she glanced into the rooms as they passed. Dark, empty and desolate. Hai, if he was looking for a quiet place to murder them, here were many. Their bodies would not be found for a decade. Had she made a mistake in trusting him? Should she scream, even now? But no, even if she did, no one would hear, for they were already far from the habitable parts.

Take hold of yourself, girl. You are not trusting him, you are trusting your judgement of him. Once he has got you out of the citadel, then watch for the treachery that will surely be coming. Once you are out, out of this stone cage, and in the open, in the woods, on the mountain, then you are back in your world. Then you will be on more equal terms with the gallu.

They must have climbed for almost an hour before he stopped, opened a door and led them into a room. She raised her lamp. The room was circular: they must be in one of the towers, high in the citadel. The flame of the lamp flickered: a breeze, which meant windows. Were they going to climb out? She raised the lamp higher, and crossed to look. Windows, yes, climb out, no. They were all barred with thick iron bars, and the ground fifty feet below. She could just make out the trees, well back from the walls.

The gallu lowered her bela to the floor, looked at Ninsha and said, “Right, girl, your lady is in the bridal chamber, right where the atu wants her.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. A bridal chamber reeking of damp and decay, no shutters to the windows, the mortar old and crumbling, the floors rotting. A bridal chamber bare of bed, floor coverings, walls hangings, anything and everything? Any bride would freeze to death in one night, here.

“Joke, girl. A bridal chamber a hundred years ago, with amenities as primitive as the times. The lavatory, girl, overhangs the castle wall, and the shit hole is a slot in the floor. And that is where you and your lady and chicken-brain are going. You said you were thin, girl, and you’ll have to be, for the gap is this wide,” and he held his forearms two hand-widths apart. Then he took a coil of rope from his backpack.

“I’m going to lower you on a rope, girl. You’ll land on a spur of rock running out from the forest. Once down, wait for her ladyship. I’ll send on this fool girl last.”

Ninsha shook her head. “Amunita bela first, then Lea bela, then me.”

“Why are you so stubborn, girl? Stubborn and stupid. This little turd would sell you for a kiss. She’s not worth a pile of ’bou shit.”

“Her first.”

He spat on the floor, then said, “Well, maybe she could be worth a bit more than a pile of ’bou shit, as a Taskarin brat. Here, chicken-brain, tie on,” and he tossed one end of the rope to Amunita.

Amunita picked up the rope and looked at it. Then she passed it around her waist, winding the end around it.

“That’ll do,” said the gallu, grinning.

Ninsha walked across to Amunita, undid the rope, and tied it with a bowline knot, securing it with two half-hitches.

“Where’d you learn that, girl?” said the gallu, his eyes narrowed.

“In the weaver shop. Where else does one learn knots?”

“And you recognised me, you recognised Qui, you knew where to see it from the pass. They call you ‘tundra girl’ in the seraglio, I’m told. I know that’s the same as calling you dirty, rubbish, a slut, but I’m beginning to wonder if you really are a tundra girl.”

A strong ‘no’ here, would be a ‘yes.’ She must play the beltu’s game here, defend by attack. “Did the maid you roll in the hay in the stables tell you that? A maid but no maiden, her. It is she who is the sluttish tundra girl, not me.”

He stared at her, then chuckled. “No secrets in the seraglio, I see. I bet you all fight like cats. But you do know me, tundra girl.”

“I do. You sold me to the hammerman in Adir.”

He frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Yes, you tripped me as I ran past the sukkal, in the marketplace, so that the hammerman, another devil, caught me. You sold me for a bit of ‘fun.’”

He snorted, but said, “How do you know it was me? I was all wrapped up.”

“So? How many Adiri men have pale skin and green eyes? How many Adiri men serve the sukkal? How many men are as big as you?”

“And Qui?”

 “Qui from the weaver shop, like the knots. One of the girls travelled here, with her father, a weaver master, looking for new patterns in Hakkan. She told me, she told us all about the beauty of Qui. She said she even came into Qui, but I think she was lying.”

“Why’s that, tundra girl?”

“Because Qui is like the corpse lily: beautiful outside, stinking and rotten inside,” and she stared into his face. Would this work? She had to tread a delicate line between ‘having guts’ and pushing him too far.

He snorted. “Good thing you are leaving, girl. The sukkal would give you five lashes for that. Real lashes, not those little kisses I gave you.” He looked at Amunita. “Ready, chicken-brain?”


	31. Back into Ninsha's world

Century-old human waste did not smear off, and actually formed a sort of hardened plaster, smoothing the surface of the rough stone of the tower. This was lucky, because although Ninsha had wrapped up her bela like a parcel, she was still afraid that she would get the foot of the wall and find a face scraped raw.

It didn’t even smell: the streets of Qui stank much worse.

For the last few feet, she had to spring out from the wall before she dropped down onto the rock spur, because Amunita had left Lea bela sitting leaning against the tower. But she had opened Lea bela’s hood so she could breathe, as Ninsha had told her to.

She handed, untied the rope, and gave it three sharp jerks. It slithered way upwards, the end swinging back and forth.

“I hate him!” said Amunita.

What? Oh, of course. That would be uppermost in Amunita’s mind. Not that they were out of the citadel, but that she had been insulted, slapped, and almost murdered. “If I were at home, I would have him whipped until he couldn’t stand.”

Ninsha did not doubt that.

“You did not tell me it was him doing the escape. How can you trust him! You saw what he did to the coachman up there on the pass. He’s a killer, he nearly killed me! How can you trust him, Ninsha?”

“I don’t trust him, bela, but I have no choice. Only he could get Lea bela out of Qui. Do you wish you hadn’t come?”

“Yes!” A pause. “No, not now, that we are now out of the citadel. But do you think he will take us to Umar?”

“I think he has plans of his own, bela, which may involve Umar, and may not. But for now we must cooperate. Later, we will see.”

“But what can two girls and one drugged woman to against a big strong man, Ninsha?”

“Watch and wait, bela. Here come the panniers.” She caught them, untied them, and jerked the rope three times. Again it snaked away upwards.

“Now we can go,” she said. “Amunita bela, can you take two packs, one on the back, one on the front, and then we must help Lea bela into the woods. Lea bela, can you walk?”

Her bela’s eyes opened, and her head turned towards her, but her eyes seemed not to see Ninsha.

She put her hand under her bela’s armpit, and urged her to her feet. It seemed to work: her bela could not understand words, but could cooperate if she was led.

Slowly, Ninsha in front, walking sideways and holding onto her bela, and Amunita holding her from behind, they made their way along the rock spur to the forest.

“She is like a child,” said Amunita.

What! “You would be like a child if you had been drugged by that bitch.”

“I wasn’t saying it was bad, Ninsha, I was just saying.”

What was this? A soothing answer from Amunita? To a servant, a tundra girl?

“What do we do now?”

“We wait for the gallu.”

“Has he gone to fetch a sled, Ninsha? Did you tell him to?”

“He needs no telling from me, bela.”

“Of course he does. He’s just a servant.”

“I also am just a servant, bela.”

“Oh, stop being difficult, Ninsha. Do you think I don’t know what happened back there? He was going to kill me, to cut my throat, and you stopped him. How do you think I feel about that?”

“I don’t know, bela.”

“Neither do I. How long do you think he will be?”

 

It was almost two hours before Ninsha heard the swish of a sled runner on soft snow, and saw the dim light of a lantern. Her bela was tired and sleepy, tired from being walked back and forth for hours, so sleepy she was drooping as she walked. Ninsha was hoping that the exercise, besides keeping her bela from cold-death, would speed the drugs through her body. So far there was no sign of that, though her sleepiness might mask any recovery. True to character, her bela had made no complaints about the walking, just accepted it. But Amunita had also made no complaints, though she had sighed more than once, and this was very out of character for her. And she had asked only four times when Ninsha thought the gallu might arrive.

“Get in, quick,” said the gallu. “We are running late. You ever travelled in a tundra sled before, tundra girl? You half sit, half lie, stacked like spoons, there, in the basket, the back part. You first, chicken brain, then you, tundra girl, then your lady.”

Ninsha didn’t even have to look at it to know it was her sled: she knew the smell of the leather thongs, the tang of rust and old blood steeped into the frame, the briny reek of the Agammu. Over that were other smells, of wet fur and fresh blood. The gallu must have been hunting. She could see a mound of something wrapped in caribou skin in the front of the sled. Beyond, in harness, was a big, strong ’bou. He turned and nickered at her. Hai, she thought, don’t betray me, Tsu-tsu. She turned her back and slid into place. Against her hip she felt a lump: her little leather toolbox.

Hai, everything she needed to escape was here, together with the one thing she didn’t want: the gallu. But even had he not been there, where, or rather how, would she go? In her mind she could picture Lea bela’s map of Aria. So she knew she had to climb to the west, then the north to get above and behind the rocky spur on which the citadel sat, and then curve around east then south to find the trail to the pass without losing too much height. She wore the compass like an amulet round her neck: she had taken it from her bela’s teaching box when they had packed for Qui. And she had been right: the box had vanished. So she knew where she had to get to, but not how to get there. She didn’t know where the tracks in the woods lay, where the snow was thick and where it was shallow, where the rock bands were. So to escape the gallu now, even were it possible, would not be wise.

He spread the caribou skin over Lea bela, pulled up the snow anchor, and called out, “Hai hai.” Tsu-tsu didn’t move, because the gallu said it wrong, with the ‘ee’ sound stressed, and too long. He just stood there until the gallu yelled, “Get along, you stupid animal,” and shook the reins. Only then did Tsu-tsu start walking, the leather bindings of the sled creaking and groaning as the sled lurched forwards.

“Hell, we’re too heavy. It’s your fault, chicken-brain. Move, you half-wit ‘bou, move.” He shook the reins again and Tsu-tsu broke into a trot.

“He’s a strong bastard, this one. Thick as ’bou shit, doesn’t understand proper ’bou commands, but once he gets going there’s no stopping him. Left, left, you stupid animal,” and he pulled on the left rein with a wide arm.

Hai, it was all she could do to stop herself from calling the commands herself. The one who was as thick as ’bou shit, the one didn’t understand proper ‘bou commands, was the stupid animal driving the sled, not the one pulling it. She bared her teeth and screwed up her face at the gallu as hard as she could, safe in the knowledge that he could not see her anger even if there had been enough light. She had wrapped up herself, and her bela, so only their eyes were showing.

Suddenly the sled jerked forward, and they were running easily. She lifted her head and glanced to one side. They were on compacted snow, sled tracks, even ruts, running parallel with them. They must be on a trail, a trail which had been used since the last snowfall. She had wondered how the gallu was going to hide the signs of their passing, and now she knew.

“Think I’m stupid, girl?” The gallu was looking down at her. “I had my men out, yesterday, riding the trails, checking all my traps. Sled tracks everywhere. Where do you hide a tree, girl?” Typical man: he needed to boast about how clever he was.

They descended into a dell, and the gallu called out “Woohaa, woohaa,” and when Tsu-tsu paid no attention, shouted, “Stop, stop, damn you,” and jerked on the reins. Tsu-tsu stopped.

“Fool animal,” he muttered.

Ninsha glared at him. The fool was the one pronouncing it wrong. It was ‘woo-aah,’ not ‘woo-haa.’ The inflection, the emphasis, the way he drew out the sound, everything was wide of the mark.

“You, girl, you want some fresh water, for your lady?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“I’ll get it, you stay there.”

No, she would not. Not after the last time she had trusted the water given to her bela by somebody else. She wriggled out and stepped onto the snow, holding out her hand for the flask.

“Feisty little thing aren’t you, tundra girl. Everything’s got to be done your way. All right, you can fill all three. One for me, one of your lady, and you and chicken-brain will have to share, I wasn’t expecting her. I’ll hold the caps. Rinse them well first, girl, they might have had ’bou piss in them last.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he laughed.

When she had finished she held out her hand for the caps.

“Which is which, girl? I got caps with different markings, because the last thing you’re going to want is your lady drinking from a flask polluted by my ugly mouth, right? So one cap has one line, one has two lines and one has three lines. Which one you want to your lady? One line, because she is tall and skinny?”

She glared at him. “Three lines.”

“Whatever you say, tundra girl. I just rinse them first,” and he went down to the stream, held the caps under the water, and came back. “Hold them out, girl and I’ll put them on.”

She looked at him. Why was he being so helpful?

“Come on, girl, we’re wasting time. Who knows when they’ll find out your lady has vanished? We got three hours to go to reach a place of safety, and we need to get there before dawn.”

He was right. She held out the flasks and he screwed the caps on.


	32. The hunting lodge

Dawn light was showing through the gaps in the trees when they came to a clearing. In the middle were buildings, with roughhewn log walls and shingle roofs. From one of them, long and low, came the sound of dogs barking. The gallu yelled, “Shut up, you bastards.” The barking increased to a frenzy.

A hunting lodge, and kennels. The beltu bursuma’s? No, it couldn’t be, for the beltu had said her lodge was on the trail to Lusagaz, right near the top of the pass. To get there they had to traverse the precipitous ledge trail where the gallu had murdered their driver. So this must be the atu’s hunting lodge.

“Geewah, geewah, geewah, geewah. Damn you, right, right! That’s it, now easy, easy. Hell, that’s the only command you understand, you dumb animal. Now stop, stop!” He jerked on the reins and they drew up at the lodge steps. Hai, no wonder Tsu-tsu’s mouth was tender.

“Off, get off now, the lot of you, up onto the veranda. But stamp the snow off your boots first. Don’t worry about the sled twisting and creaking, it is built to shape itself to the terrain and the loads. It’s a proper tundra sled, built by the tundra people, and tough, like them. Why are you looking at me, tundra girl? I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about the real thing. You, chicken-brain, move, move. You think we have all day?”

He turned to Ninsha. “We’re going have to lay low during the day, because woodsmen and hunters are about, and in a few hours, the place will be crawling with men looking for you. I’m going to hide you where no one one will ever think to look: under their feet.” He bent, slid back two bolts, and lifted a trapdoor set into the planking of the veranda. The smell of blood and raw flesh, of fur and feathers rose. A ladder led down into the darkness.

“I’m going to leave you down there, girl, in the game store, and go back and lay a false trail. You go down first, tundra girl. Take the water bottles with you, and the lantern so you can see down there. Get some furs from the end room and make a bed for your lady. You, chicken-brain, you go next. I’ll drop your bags to you, then the game bag. Catch them without dropping them, if you’re capable of that. Hang the game up on the hooks down there. Tundra girl, you see she does it right; I wouldn’t trust her to empty a piss pot. I’ll come down last with her ladyship. Don’t look at me like that, tundra girl; if I wanted to run off with her I’d have done it already.”

Hai, this place was cold. Every rung of the ladder that she descended, the cold grew. At the bottom, on the stone flagged floor, it was truly icy.

She held up the oil lamp. Around her were racks, wooden racks with shelves. Two or three ‘bouskins hung from pegs on the walls. Against one wall stood a table of roughhewn timber, a butchering table stained and scored, with blood and offal pushed to one side. Foolish men, surely they knew that would attract the rats? Or would it? The meat was frozen: she could see the ice crystals. How long would rats survive down here, in this icy place? How long would Lea bela survive?

Behind her, Amunita arrived, and then the gallu, carrying her bela, limp over his shoulders. He stepped towards the table.

“Hai, not there, that’s blood all over. Here on this side.” Stupid man, he could see the blood, and he was going to put her bela right on it.

“It’s frozen, tundra girl, don’t you see that?”

“And you think it won’t melt with her on it? Wait, let me put a ‘bouskin down first.”

“‘Bouskin, huh? That word rolls off your tongue, tundra girl, like you’ve used it a thousand times. Did you work at the tannery as well as the weaver shop?” He put her bela down on the skin, and scowled at her.

Think quickly, girl. “In that stink? What do you think I am? No, never. But tanners are as thick as the ‘bou skins they cure. We had to embroider saddles, for rich people like your master the atu, and the tanners kept on sending us ‘bouskins which were too thick. We couldn’t drive the needles through. So I had to go and tell them. Over and over and over.”

“Glad to see I’m not the only one who gets the rough side of your tongue, tundra girl. Now look, I’m locking you in for your own safety. Don’t try anything clever, understand? Men might come, looking for you. Nobody will suspect that you are down here, but if you get out and go stamping around in the snow, they’ll find you for sure, and then you’ll be back in the citadel before you can say ‘Harem.’ The atu will welcome his bride, but he’s had more than enough of you. He’ll wring your neck and drop you in the cesspit. This lodge is halfway up the mountain, so a long way from anywhere you could possibly walk to, even if there wasn’t snow waist deep everywhere. I’m setting my dogs loose. They are half-wolf and half starved, and the flesh of a pretty Findian maiden would be a feast they’d never dreamed of. I’m taking the ladder and hiding it, so even if anyone looking opens the trapdoor, they won’t be able to get down. You just stay there quiet if you hear voices, and hide the lantern away. I know you hate my guts, tundra girl, but I’ve got you out of the citadel and I’ll get you to Umar, like I said. If I don’t, I don’t get paid. I’ll be back in five or six hours, then we’ll go on.”

 

The trapdoor dropped into place with a thud, the bolts clicked home, but Ninsha waited until the sound of the runners cutting through the snow had faded before she raised the lamp to have a good look around. The racks went the full length of the room, with the flagstone walkway going on between them. A doorway led to another room, long and narrow, this one with rails. Most of them were empty, but furthest from the the door hung the carcasses of deer and wolf, even a caribou, with fox, pine marten and rabbits closer. Roughhewn timber was stacked against the wall: posts, rails and planks.

She went back to the first room. On the middle shelf of the rack nearest the table were the furs of wolf and foxes, but on the upper shelf lay a huge, thick fur: black bear, head, claws and all. That would keep her bela warm. It would be very heavy, but between them, she and Amunita might just be able to manage it.

Behind her, Amunita said, “Ninsha, what do I do with these? That devil told me to hang them up, but they are all bloody, and I don’t know how anyway.”

“Just put the bag on the table, bela. I will look at it later. First I must get Lea bela warm.” Little puffs of condensation formed as she spoke.

Her bela was cold from the journey, even though Ninsha had wrapped her well, and she would get colder here, quickly. To get warm they would have to walk. But not on these cold stone slabs. She went into the second room, took planks from the wall, and laid them down on the slabs to form a walkway the length of the two rooms. Then she wrapped her bela’s feet, and her feet, in fox furs doubled over, using the legs to tie them in place. Silently, Amunita copied her.

Then Ninsha took her bela’s arm, and started walking her, guiding her along the plankway to the end of the far room and back, and then again, and again. While she walked, she thought. They had concluded, her bela and herself, that the gallu could not be trusted. She had had to trust him, to get them out of the citadel. Now they were out, and in her world: the world of the wild, the forest, the snow. But it was not enough, for she had to get her bela to safety, beyond the reach of the atu and the sukkal. She had to get her bela to Umar, to Ashluta beltu, and for that she needed sled and ’bou. Her sled and her’bou, but now in the hands of the gallu. The gallu had said he would take them to Umar. How would that serve his master’s interest? How could she tell that, if she did not know why the sukkal was doing this. What alternative was there? Only Hakkan and Lusagaz. Unless he was going to murder them in the forest, and if so, why had he not already done it? The only way to Hakkan was back down past the citadel again, and in full view. So not to Hakkan. To get to Lusagaz, they would have to cross the Iribal plateau, and in winter, that was certain death. The gallu must know that, surely. So maybe he did intend to take them to Umar. If so, how would he get them there? Would not the trail be black ice by now? If it was, any attempt at descending would be certain death. Was it possible that he knew of the herder route down the Wall of Iribal? She could not believe that: it was so broken and eroded that even nomads avoided it. But Umar was the only possible destination. So should she trust him?

Hai, she was going round in circles. All she knew for certain was that nothing the sukkal or the gallu would do would be in Lea bela’s interest. So if the gallu did take them to Umar, he would not let them go to Ashluta beltu. He would bypass Umar, and take them who knows where. No, she could not trust him. So, how could she part him from sled and ’bou? How?

After about an hour of walking, her bela seemed to rouse.

“Ninsha? Ninsha?” Her bela’s voice, soft and tentative.

“I am here, Lea bela, Ninsha is here.”

“Why are we walking, Ninsha? I am tired.”

“We have to keep walking to keep warm, bela. We can rest for a short while, if you want.” And she led her bela to the table and sat down, the bearskin wrapped around and under her.

Once her bela was sitting comfortably, she said, “ Are you hungry, bela? Are you thirsty?”

“I am thirsty, Ninsha.”

Ninsha took the cap off the leather flask, and held it up for the bela to drink. “We have no cups, bela.”

 Her mistress drank, then looked around, “What is this place, Ninsha? It’s very cold. Are we in the citadel?” Her bela’s intonation was still flat, but at least she was showing an interest in what was happening.

“No, bela. You are not in the citadel any more. We have escaped from the citadel and are now in a hunting lodge in the forest. I will tell you what has happened, bela. The sukkal had you drugged, and made you sign marriage papers. So I sent …”

She told the story, but hadn’t even reached the part where they were lowered on the rope down the walls when she saw that her bela’s head had drooped forward again, and her eyes were shut. How long would it be before the drug wore off entirely? She hoped it was soon, because she needed to discuss with her bela what to do. But for now, a short sleep was probably best, because they would soon have to walk again to keep warm.


	33. The woodsmen

Short it was, for within half an hour she could feel her feet turning to ice. She slid down from the table and tugged at her bela’s arm. “Come, Lea bela, we must walk again.” Her bela, eyes closed, came and they started walking again.

Amunita watched them for a while, then joined them, walking behind.

“You look after Lea bela so well, Ninsha, like she was your own flesh and blood. Ibba would never look after me like this, never ever, not even if she knew how. Would you look after me like this if you were my maid?”

How was she to answer this without offending the girl?

Her hesitation was enough. “So you would not. Is it because Lea bela is tall and beautiful and foreign, and I am just a … I am not tall and beautiful? Or because I treated you like a servant?”

Already there was a change here. That Amunita could even ask such a question of her, a servant, was surprising. That she could understand Ninsha’s hesitation for what it was, and then respond without becoming angry and abusive was even more remarkable. Though Ninsha wondered how long it would last once they were back in Adir. But at least now she had an answer to Amunita’s question.

“No, bela, it is not you, your looks, your treatment of me or anything like that. It is just Lea bela, not her looks, but herself, her heart. She rescued me in the marketplace from a violent man. She rescued me from Ishtar. She rescued my sister. Those were the great things, the outpouring of her heart, but there are many other things, littler things, not little to me. She respects me, and she respects my mind, she respects what I can do. It is because she is great-hearted, bela. If you had done these things for me, Amunita bela, I would do for you what I do for her.”

A short silence, then, “I suppose she pays you very well, being a Findian.”

“I do not know what she pays me, bela, or even if she does. We have never talked of it. But money buys service, bela, it does not buy love.”

“Love? Is that what you feel, Ninsha?”

“As you said, Amunita bela, she is like my own flesh and blood: a mother, a sister. That is what I feel.”

 

The hours passed. Her bela did not wake again. Why? Surely if she had woken once, showing that the drug was wearing off, she would wake again, and be rational? Not only did she not wake again, but she became more and more difficult to keep walking.

Ninsha found that singing to her bela was the best way to keep keep her walking. A slow, sonorous song, with the beat every time the right foot went down seemed best. The nomad lullabye she had sung to the baby in the garden, what was it, six, seven days ago? It seemed like months. Her bela slipped into the rhythm, her eyes closed, her arm linked through Ninsha’s.

 

She herself had almost sunk into a stupor when Amunita had roused her. “Tsst,” and she pointed upwards.

Ninsha listened. Yes, she could hear the rapid thud of a trotting caribou. Was it the gallu coming back? She hoped so, even though she hadn’t any sort of the plan for escaping him yet. But this place was so miserable.

“Woo-aah, woo-aah.”

No, not the gallu. Apart from the Arian accent, the man was saying the commands correctly. She put a finger across her lips, and Amunita nodded.

The sounds of a snow anchor been driven in, the heavy tread of boots up the steps onto the veranda, then the slow tread of a man pacing back and forth, keeping warm, waiting for something or someone.

The pacing stopped and in the silence came the clop clop of another approaching caribou. Two ‘bou, for the sounds came too close together for only one.

A man’s voice called out “Ho, brother,” and was answered by a “Ho, brother.”

Woodsmen, men who shared the hardships of the forests in winter, who shared a fire in a draughty shelter: this was how they greeted each other.

“That’s it, in the canvas bag? It looks as big as a man.”

“Weighs five times as much, I can tell you. If we didn’t store it on its own sled, I wouldn’t be able to handle it alone. The ‘bou struggled back there where the trail’s steep.”

“Needs to be heavy to break the black imhullu ice. Have you checked it?”

“I had a look. The spikes are sharp, the axle is greased. No need to check it, really. If it’s military, it’ll be well looked after, in Qui.”

“Better than the people.”

“Say that in the citadel, brother, and they’ll take out that flapping tongue. We may go hungry, but it’s better than being slaughtered by the Hakkan. The atu keeps his weapons sharp and his mind on the job.”

“Which job? Not the defence of Aria, this last week or so. The Hakkan could be massing at the bottom of the pass for all we know.”

“You make more of it than it is, brother. We still have our spies in Hakkan, and our scouts down the pass.”

“Maybe, but who’s paying attention to what they say? Not the atu of Qui. From the moment he saw her, he’s been obsessed by her.”

“Not the first time it’s happened.”

“True, but this one says no, and that just stokes the fire.

“Stupid bitch. Why doesn’t she just accept him, like all the others? He’s not some goatherd, he’s the atu of Qui. What more can a woman want?”

“They say she cares nothing for jewels and clothes and servants, all those things that women usually wish for. They say she’s very clever, too clever for the atu. They say she even ties the sukkal in knots when she argues law. He hates her, as much as such a cold-blooded creature can hate anything.”

“You’re dangerous company, brother. Say that the wrong person and you’ll be for the short rope and the long drop. The word from the Temple’s different. The priests say that she would’ve accepted him, but her maid’s a witch. She wants the atu for herself, so she bewitched the Findian bela to refuse him.”

“The temple says that? Have you seen them, the maid and the mistress? I saw them at the Temple of Enki. The Findian bela is Ninlil in the flesh, tall and slim, skin like alabaster, hair like fire. The maid’s a little wispy thing, not ugly, no, but it’s like comparing a sparrow to a swan. To talk of the atu choosing her over her mistress is laughable. She’d have to bewitch the atu, not her mistress. The atu’s bewitched, yes, but by the moon maiden.”

“He’s bewitched by someone. But the sukkal’s hand’s on the reins.”

“Him?” The man spat. “Whatever that man touches causes suffering. I wish Masgal-en was here. Qui’s like an upturned beehive this morning. The whole garrison’s out packing down the snow. If the Hakkan came up the pass, they’d walk right into the citadel.”

“Hakkan is over fifty miles away, with the gorge and its avalanches waiting like a deathtrap. Qui couldn’t be more safe, man. But what makes no sense is clearing the snow to the saddle. She wants to get to Umar or Adir, surely. And anyone who has taken her will be the same. Surely it’d better to leave the snow? We don’t know where she is, no, but if we can’t reach the pass, neither can she.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you. But the gallu says if the maid’s a witch, they could be anywhere. So we clear the trail to the summit. No matter that if witchcraft could take them anywhere, they’d be in Umar or Adir, not sitting on the top of a snow bound pass with two thousand feet of black ice between them and safety.”

 “Not for much longer, brother. The icebreaker’ll deal with that.”

“That makes even less sense. It’s just possible whoever has taken her could reach the pass, and maybe even reach the halfway serai. But clearing the black ice down to Umar? We just create a path for the abductor. What do you think?”

“I’m not paid to think. I’m paid to obey orders, and the gallu’s orders to us, you and I, are to harness our three ‘bou to the icebreaker sled and deliver it to the men at the top of the pass. Then we’re to build a fire beacon at the topmost point where it can be seen from the citadel, twice the height of a man. Then we’re to go to the high point, the saddle between the rock bands, and wait and watch there, for the moon maiden.”

“Who’ll watch the Lusagaz trail? It’d be madness to go there, but this whole business is madness.”

“The gallu himself. He’s following.”

“He is coming, here? Hai, we should go then. He’s very free with his fists to those who’re slow to obey his orders. Come, the trail must be all but finished now.”

 

So the gallu had gone back to Qui, into the citadel, after he had left them. So much for laying a false trail. And no question now that he would have killed Amunita. She glanced across at the girl. Had she realised this?

The cliffside trail to the summit of the pass was prepared. They could use it and travel quickly on it. She could not reach the pass through the woods: she did not know the way though the rockbands, or even if there was a way. So she must go on the cliff-side trail. But … they would be seen from Qui. The citadel was on the opposite side of the valley, and the screen of trees along the trail had many gaps. Still, they might slip by. The lookout would be expecting to see the woodsmen’s sleds and then later, the gallu’s sled, and that is what they would see. Though a sharp eyed lookout would see that the driver of the gallu’s sled was small, not big like the gallu. Maybe it would be snowing, or misty, and that would hide them. Maybe it wouldn’t. She must expect to be seen. So she must rely on speed to get through. But first she had to get away, to get her bela onto Tsu-tsu’s sled and away. She would have to trick the gallu. Trick the gallu. Let him realise or even suspect she was trying to trick him and … Hai, the mere thought was enough to freeze her with terror.

_All you can do is your best, Ninsha._

Her best. All right. Put the ‘how’ to one side for now. After the gallu was tricked, he would come after them. He would use his dogs. In deep snow, a caribou sled was faster, because caribou have much longer legs. But on a made trail, dogs would be faster than a single caribou pulling a heavy load.

So what could she do, then, to do her best? If she got her bela away, then, yes, the cliffside trail, and fast. And with luck she should have enough of a start to be off the cliffside trail before he reached it. But at some point he would catch them. How could she slow him? Him or his dogs: what could she do to slow them, half starved dogs?

Half starved dogs, yes.

“Amunita bela, can you walk Lea bela for a while? I have something to do.”

She spilled out the contents of the game bag across the butchering table. One small fox, two rabbits and a pine marten. She needed raw meat, bloody meat with a strong smell, cut into bite-size chunks. There, on a table, was a small butcher’s knife. The gallu hadn’t even bothered to take it. If they had been men, or even boys, he would have, but girls? Girls didn’t do violence, everyone knew that. Men like the gallu would always disparage women for that reason alone. But what girls did do, and boys didn’t, was think.

She took Ibba’s drug phial and put it on the table. Then, using the knife, she began to cut up one of the rabbits into small squares of meat, cutting slashes in each one, and leaving the skin and fur attached. As she finished each square, she put it to the one side, and poured a drop from the phial onto it, so that the liquid seeped into the fur and the cuts in the meat.

“What are you doing, Ninsha?” said Amunita.

How much should she tell the girl? She trusted her, for she was threatened even more by the gallu, but the gallu was already suspicious, and a thoughtless glance from Amunita might alert the gallu.

“Just preparing some meat, Amunita bela. We don’t know what effect this drug will have on Lea bela, and when it wears off, and we might need to send her back to sleep.”

That was more full of holes than an old eel net: Ninsha drugging Lea bela again? Raw meat, for Lea bela? But Amunita seemed satisfied. Perhaps she just trusted Ninsha enough not to question her further?

And there was no doubt now in her mind that the gallu meant to betray them. Why else would he have left the trail to Lusagaz unguarded? He had travelled it once himself. But surely he would know that no one could cross the Iribal in winter. Or did he believe, in his arrogance and ignorance, that he could. And that no one would follow, because no one would believe that anyone could be so foolish as to attempt this.

What did he intend there? The slave market? Lea bela would sell for a brace of diamonds. Was this the sukkal’s revenge? He would be well repaid every insult her bela had heaped on him. But … Ninsha remembered how Amatu beltu had spoken of Lea bela’s family. Ninsha had never heard of Lea bela’s godfather, Oenghus Ironrod, but Amata beltu had, and seemed to think he was no small figure. And the earl of Findias himself had been consulted as to Lea bela’s journey. So to sell a person like Lea bela in the slave market would be like slapping the earl in the face. It would be like a little dog snapping at a lion. Why would a man of the cunning of the sukkal do something like that?

And the icebreaker? What could be the reason for that? It would take many hours to crush the ice on the ledges of the Tiers of the Annunaki, and within a day or so the trail would have frozen to black ice again. No, that made little sense, but there was much of this which made little sense.

What did make sense was that she could now, just, and with a great deal of good fortune, get her bela to Umar. If, and her heart quailed, if she could trick the gallu.

Five or six hours, he had said, but she was sure it was more than that now. It had been five at least, before the woodsmen had arrived, and two since they had left. Already the cold was gnawing at them. Had he had an accident? If so, they would die here, for how could she get her unconscious bela out through a trapdoor which she couldn’t even reach, a trapdoor bolted from the outside?

But no, it was more likely that the gallu had been delayed. He was just the sort of man who would misjudge how long something would take and then be unconcerned about the discomfort of those left waiting for him.

Far more worrying was her bela’s condition. The drug should be wearing off, but instead her bela seemed to sink deeper and deeper into a stupor. It was hard to get her to eat and drink, and even harder to get her to walk. She had even discussed it with Amunita, but the girl understood Lea bela’s condition no more than Ninsha did.

All she could do was wait. No, she could do more than that. “Amunita bela, this place is getting too cold for Lea bela. I must make a warmroom for us. So you must walk Lea bela a while longer.”

“How do you know about such things, Ninsha?”

“From my attic room in Adir, bela. The shutters were all broken and it got very cold in winter.” Which was true, if not the whole truth.

She choose one of the racks where the shelves were about a crawling space part, and strung ‘bouhide thonging, well cured and strong, from post to post and across the shelves. Then she hung ‘bouskins, doubled over, to form the walls, and more on the shelf floor, topped by a layer of soft fox furs. Over everything she laid the bearskin. It had not been properly cured, and stank a little, but it was warm. On the shelf above she stuffed fox furs to the gaps between the planks. The rest of the thonging, twenty, thirty arm-lengths of it, she wrapped around her waist. Thonging was useful for many things, like running repairs to sleds and making shelters. Just having it made her feel better and more confident.

Then she called Amunita, and they crawled in and huddled together, one on each side of Lea bela, wrapped in the bearskin. Now they could at least survive the night. But soon they would need more food. Where, where was was the gallu?


	34. Escape

When at last the gallu came, he tried to catch her out, for the first sign of his return had been the clack of the bolts being thrown back and the crash of the trapdoor being flung open.

Ninsha climbed out of the warmroom, and held up the lamp. He peered down at her. “So, my little flock of birds has not flown.”

“How would we fly?” said Ninsha. “To where? And why would we fly? Have you not said you will take us to Umar?”

“True, true.”

He lowered the ladder and climbed down. Then he saw the plank walkway on the floor and scowled. “What’s this, girl?”

“This place is very cold, so we have to walk, like you said, to keep warm. The stones are icy, so we walk on the planks.”

“You learn that in the weaver shop?”

“A two-year-old knows that, that wood is warmer to walk on than stone.”

“And that? The cave of furs?”

“You said to make my bela a bed. So we made this, a bed all round, to keep warm. This place is too big otherwise, a small place is easier to keep warm.”

“You learned that in the weaver shop as well, did you?”

“In my attic room in Adir, with wind blowing through the broken shutters. Everyone knows it is easier to keep a small space warm than a big one.”

He stared at her. “You’re just too good to be true, girl. I’ve never met a city girl like you. You’re bold, you’re strong, you’re clever, you can act as well as think.”

“You said five hours, and it was seven, eight, who knows, nine, and you didn’t come. This place was cold and getting colder. What was I supposed to do, let my bela freeze to death?”

He scowled at her. “Full of backchat, too. Bring your lady out, girl, and I’ll take her up the ladder and put her in the sled. You pack the fox skins. I want to sell them in Umar.”

“First you must take up the bearskin for us. It is going to be very cold on the pass, and I need it for my bela. Then I will bring up the other skins.”

“Hell, I’ve never met a girl as pushy as you are. Though you look after your lady well, and that’s all I care about. The atu’s bearskin for a blanket, hey? The atu would have your hide for that. The Elluria bear is a royal animal, tundra girl, don’t you know that? Only the atu may hunt it.”

“I’m not hunting it, only taking it. The atu is not here, my bela is. He does not need it, she does. Anyway, he is no friend to us.”

The gallu laughed. “Not to you, that’s for sure.”

 

They were all strapped in and ready to go when Ninsha, heart in mouth, held up the game bag. “What do I do with this? It stinks of raw meat. Can we put somewhere so my bela doesn’t have to smell it all the time?”

“What the hell are you doing with that, girl? I told that stupid chicken-brain to hang the game up down there.”

“We did, but then you told me to bring it.”

“Bring that? Why the hell would I do that? You think we’re going to be stopping to cook meat on the bloody pass? Fox meat?”

“Hai, how should I know something like that? What I know is that you told me to bring the fox skins, so I brought them.”

“Those are not the fox skins, you stupid little bitch. That’s the game. The skins are the cured furs. You think the fur dealers in … anywhere are going to buy raw fox meat?”

“How should I know what they will buy? But if this is wrong then let me go and get the proper skins,” and she began to wriggle around.

“Stop, you stupid bitch, we’re running late, and I’ve just strapped you all in, nice and snug, with the gear and everything.” He stared at her, frowning. “If this is some trick, tundra girl…”

“Trick for what? You think I can run away through the snow with a sick bela? Or drive a sled? You think they teach me that in the weaver shop? But let me get out and get them, then there can be no trick.”

“Just stay where you are, you silly slut.” He stepped off the runners, rammed the snow anchor back into the snow, took off his cape, and hung it on one of the antlers. Then he climbed the steps to the veranda, squatted down, pulled back the bolts, and lifted the trapdoor.

“Stay where you are, girl, don’t move, all right? I’ll be back in a moment.” He started climbing down the ladder. His head disappeared, but Ninsha sat still, waiting. His head popped up again, he looked at her, narrow eyed, but without comment, then descended again. This time Ninsha struggled free.

“What are you doing!” said Amunita. “He said don’t move. He will be very angry if you get out.”

Ninsha ignored her, stepped out of the sled, but stopped at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating. She must act now, now, as she had planned, but suddenly she was seized by a strange lassitude.

She had never defied a man openly before. Pretending ignorance or misunderstanding, sidestepping instructions, yes, but never direct, challenging defiance. And now she was going to defy a man for whom violence, even killing, was second nature. It would be like poking a bear with a stick. An uncaged bear. And once defied, there was no going back. If ever he got his hands on her after this, he would beat her, beat her hard, or even kill her. But … would she ever get another chance like this?

She heard the ladder creak. He was coming back. She must act now, now or it would be too late. She sprang onto the veranda, flung the trapdoor shut and shot the bolts home. From below there was a roar of fury, and a moment later, a pounding on the underside of the trapdoor.

Amunita stared at her, her hands over her mouth, “What have you done! What have you done! He’ll kill us.”

Ninsha jumped down to the ground, jerked out the snow anchor and stowed it, then sprang onto the runners and shouted, “Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu. Ksai, ksai.” The sled jerked and the traces creaked as the big animal broke into a trot.

She had thought she might go to the dog kennels, to throw them some of the drugged meat, but the sounds coming from the cold store, of yelling and roaring, of the creaking and cracking of wood, were so terrifying that it was all she could do to fight the rising panic, the urge to go back, open the trapdoor, and throw herself on his mercy.

“Geeah, geeah.” She guided Tsu-tsu onto the track left by the woodsmen. Without urging, the big animal broke into a gallop. Hai, he must have been the butt of the gallu’s anger before, to respond so.

“You tricked him.” Amunita was staring at her. “Why? Why? He will kill us when he catches us. He was taking us to Umar!”

The runner tracks turned out of the glade, and up into the woods. “Sva, sva,” and Tsu-tsu wheeled around after them. The longer they stayed off the main trail, the better. Amunita flung her arms around Lea bela to stop her from sliding off.

About a hundred paces further on, Ninsha stopped to tighten the straps. She took the gallu’s cape and spread it over her bela and Amunita. “Watch behind us for the gallu, Amunita bela. No, he was not taking us to Umar. He was taking us to Lusagaz. Did you not hear what the woodsmen said? They were to guard the trail to Umar, but to leave the trail to Lusagaz to the gallu. And why? So he could use it. He was taking us to Lusagaz to sell us there, in the slave market. Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu. Ksai, ksai. Keep watching for him, bela,” and they moved off again.

Silence, except for the swishing of the runners through the snow, the clop-clop of Tsu-tsu’s hooves, the regular sound of his breathing. And Ninsha’s thudding heart: never had she been so frightened.

Then, “You are sure?”

“Nothing is sure, bela, but I am more sure, much more, than not sure. And once he was driving the sled it would be too late. Too late for ever.”

More silence, then, “And you can drive a ’bou sled? How is that?”

“I am what you have called me, bela, a tundra girl. A real tundra girl, born and bred on the tundra. My family are nomads. This sled is mine, made by me and my father, the ’bou is my ’bou, my own ‘bou, Tsu-tsu.”

The ‘bou flicked his ears. Hai, he must be as happy to be free of the gallu as she was.

“This sled, this actual sled, all of bones and caribou antlers?”

“Bones are strong, bela. Bones are plentiful on the tundra because death is common.” That would give her something to think about. “Now I must drive, bela, and think, and cannot talk.”

Drive and think. How much time did she have, before the gallu was on her trail? It might take him anything between a quarter and a half hour to break out of the cold-store, make a sled ready and harness the dogs.

All things being equal, he would be faster than them. Tsu-tsu was strong, but their load of three women made them half again heavier than him. And he would have dogs. How many dogs? When he had robbed her family, he had had six.

Through the woods like this, in thick snow, a ’bou sled was faster than a dogsled. Would he follow them, as she was following the woodsmen, and try to catch her? Or would he go straight down the glade to the trail to the pass? On a trail with frozen or compacted snow, a dogsled was a half again faster than a ‘bou sled. But it was still an hour to sunset, and the snowing had stopped. If he went on the trail, he would be seen from the citadel. That might cause some suspicion, for he had set out with a ‘bou sled, and now had a dogsled. But he was the gallu, brutal, violent and ruthless, and most of the men of Qui seemed to fear him. He was also clever, a schemer, a liar and a risk-taker. He would go to the trail, she had no doubt. And if he did that, he might get ahead of her, and lie in wait.

So she too must get to the trail as soon as possible. She would be seen, yes, the watch would see a dogsled and a ’bou sled, where they should only see a ‘bou sled. The alarm would be sounded, and the atu would set off in pursuit. But an atu four hours, and a gallu half an hour behind her was better than a gallu lying in wait ahead of her. And it would be less tiring for Tsu-tsu as well, not to be plunging into fetlock deep snow all the time. She should have thought about that earlier: Tsu-tsu was strong, yes, but he had already done two journeys of the citadel and back. They still had to get to the top of the pass, and down to Umar, thirty miles the other side.

She came to a cross glade: a logging glade, it must be, and would take her to the trail.

“Geeah, geeah.” Tsu-tsu veered to the right in response to her command, but then angled to the left again. What was this? “Geeah, geeah, Tsu-tsu.”  Again he veered to the right, but again angled left, to get back to his original track. Was he just following the other track, or did he know something she didn’t? Her father had always told her: when in doubt, trust the ’bou.

“All right, boy, have it your way,” and within a hundred paces he proved right, for the track descended to join the main trail at a gentle angle.

“Good boy, clever boy, Tsu-tsu,” and the big ’bou flicked his ears.

The snow was flat and hard, and the runners ran smoothly across it. Even Tsu-tsu’s hooves sank in only a thumb’s length. How far up the trail were they? With all the trees around, she couldn’t tell, but a few moments later they came out into the open, and she looked across and down. It was still misty, but as the setting sun lit the valley, the mist was thinning. Even now she could see patches of the valley floor and the lake, though not the citadel. But if it kept thinning … this whole stretch was visible from the towers.

But for her, it made no difference: the gallu would be behind them and no doubt closing. They reached the ledge and started along it. Into one switchback and out again, then another. Down in the valley the mist had almost gone. She could see the citadel towers. Surely the lookout must spot them? She glanced back along the trail, and her heart gave a lurch. There, no more than a thousand paces behind them, was the gallu with a team of eight, ten dogs.

Then, from the valley, came the horn call. Twice: Faint, but clear. They’d been spotted, her and the gallu, and the hunt was up. The gallu would now be desperate to catch her and get away on the trail to Lusagaz. He would be flogging his dogs, for once he had caught them, he could use the ‘bou sled.

So he would now be going twice as fast as them. She could not possibly reach the end of the ledge before he reached them. But… soon it would be dark.

How much time did she have? Not much. She must hide soon, for the gallu would be on them. She reached the outermost point, and started back into the cut again. Hai, this was where the gallu had sprung his trap to abduct her bela. There, in the innermost point, was the narrow wooded ravine where he had hidden the wolves. And where they could hide.

“Sva, sva.” She steered him into the trees and into a tiny dell. Only ten paces deep, but enough to hide a ‘bou and a sled.

“Stay, stay, Tsu-tsu.” She flung the anchor down, then ran back and started scooping snow over their tracks. It would never pass even a sideways glance in broad daylight, but in this half-light, might just.

She heard the crack of a whip and backed into the dell.

“Don’t let Lea bela make any sound,” she said to Amunita, and ran on to Tsu-tsu. Taking the harness, she pulled his head down and started stroking his muzzle, saying, “It’s all right, boy, it’s all right. You just stay there quiet and calm, and let them pass, it’s all right, boy …” Just one snort of alarm from the ‘bou would betray them.

She heard the whip crack again, then the panting of the dogs, and then the swish of runners in snow. A yell, “Go, you bastards, go,” and the sled swept by them.

Remaining in the shadow of the trees, she walked forward, to watch for him to appear on the far ledge. The tracks of the woodsmen would go on to the top of the pass, and she doubted that the gallu was a skilled enough tracker to be able to tell the difference between five sleds and four. Yes, there he went along the ledge, and around the far bend, the bend where he had flung the coachman and two horses, down to their deaths.

“Has he gone?” said Amunita.

“Yes, and so must we, close but not too close. When he finds the woodsmen at the top of the pass have not seen us, he may send them back to look for us. So we must get along the ledge to the end, and off the trail.”

 

It was full night by the time they reached the signal beacon, a tower of wood twice the height of a man, standing dark against the darker trees. She rounded it and stopped in the shadow of the trees.

Ahead were the woodsmen, and now the gallu, guarding the summit of the pass. Somehow, she had to get past them, through the narrow point between the rock bands at the summit saddle.

She needed to draw them away, and the obvious bait was to fire the beacon. But… the wood was all damp. The moisture would all steam off once the fire was set and going, but dry tinder would be needed. She had a striker box and tinder, but just a little, and this wet timber would need a lot. A lot of tinder and a lot of attention, and she wanted to be near the saddle, not here huffing at the fire when the watchers arrived. She couldn’t just start the fire and leave it, for one plop of snow sliding through the timbers could put it out. She couldn’t be in two places at once. She needed help and no one was here to give it.

Except… the hunter, Ashluta beltu’s hunter. If, and it could be an impossible ‘if’, she could find him.

The beltu had told him he could stay in her lodge, on the trail to Lusagaz just beyond the junction. Would he be there? It was after dark, but with men coming and going all day he would have hidden himself, surely. But … she could only try.

 


	35. The Pass of Qui

If she had not been looking for it, she would have missed it: a faint depression in the snow leading towards a narrow gap in the trees. A little further, just inside the trees, another shallow furrow led off it towards the rectangular shape of a building in the forest, dark and seemingly deserted.

She stared at it for a few moments, then gave the short, sharp, coughing bark of a silver fox. Amunita stared at her, but she raised her hand for silence. She waited a few moments, and made the sound again. A barking response came from the woods to her left, and a few moments later, a tall figure stepped out of the trees, and stood silent, watching her.

“Ugula-gar, is that you?” If it wasn’t, the game was up.

“Namkisikil, it is I. Are you flesh or spirit? I heard you and your bela had fallen to the turquoise lake.”

“A foul trick, ugula-gar, played on my bela and the beltu bursuma by her enemies. The gallu took us from the carriage, and flung the carriage from the cliffs. Now we have escaped him again, but he is on our heels.”

“He awaits you, namkisikil. I saw him pass, from the trees, the devil drawn by his wolves.”

“Will you help us escape him, ugula-gar?”

He was silent, and Ninsha’s heart sank.

“I’ve crossed him once, namkisikil. If I cross him again, he’ll surely kill me. And behind him, in this, stands the atu of Qui, surely seeking the Findian beltu. I’d be crossing not only the gallu, but the atu. I would be crossing Qui itself.”

“Oh, but-” said Amunita, and Ninsha raised her hand to stop her. A hunter, a man who had faced the charging boar, faced death, would not be forced, but must find his own way to his duty.

“It is monumental, for a man to challenge a city,” said Ninsha.

“It is even more monumental for a maid to challenge a city, one, moreover, imprisoned within it. I know from the Qui stables that you are a nomad, namkisikil, and so can drive a caribou sled, but how you could escape that stone prison in the first place is beyond my understanding.”

“It is a story of treachery by the gallu to his master the atu, and trickery by me to the gallu, but it would be too long in the telling. If ever you come to the egal of Amata beltu Taskarin in Adir, I will tell it to you. But first I must get my bela there. She has been drugged by the sukkal and needs a physician. And also Amata beltu’s great-niece, with me, here in the sled with my bela. The night is drawing on, and somehow I must cross the pass. So I must bid you farewell, ugula-gar.” She had sown the seed and shown that the sapling would be protected by the great and powerful. Would it now bear fruit?

“Hai, hai, namkisikil, you tear at me with your courage, you, a maiden, and I, a man, showing none.” He paused, then said, “If a man does not show loyalty to his master or mistress, such a man is without honour. I am the beltu bursuma’s man, namkisikil. It would be her wish that I help you. And with you is a young Taskarin bela, kin by marriage to the beltu. So, I will help you, namkisikil, but I know only these forests, and little of the lands beyond the pass.”

“I know those lands, ugula-gar. If you help me to cross the pass, that will be all I need. Indeed, it is all I want, for beyond we must travel as the kula-ka’a, sly and quick and unseen, and one can do that better than two. Let me tell you my plan.”

When she had finished, the hunter said, “I will fire the beacon, namkisikil, but what if they do not come? There are three now. The gallu is cunning. He may send the others, and stay himself at the saddle to watch. I have a better plan, more dangerous, but surer.” When he had explained it to her, she said, “And you, ugula-gar? Besides the gallu and the woodsmen, in a few hours the atu will be here, with many men.”

“Do not fear for me, namkisikil. Like the kula-ka’a, I can fade into the woods and no one will find me.”

 

Following the hunter’s instructions, she drove the sled up the Lusagaz trail for almost a thousand paces, and turned into the woods on a narrow glade for another hundred paces. There, balancing the sled on a fallen tree trunk, the hunter turned it to face the way they had come. Carefully riding in the outward tracks, they returned to the lodge turning.

Pointing to a narrow glade opposite, the hunter said, “Up there, on your return. It runs most of the way to the rockband, but hidden from the main trail by the trees. The snow is well frozen. I will wait here for you. And we shall see what we shall see.” He touched his forehead with the base of his palm, then bowed his head as he made the homage gesture to her. “Your courage, namkisikil.”

 

Now it was up to her. She was frightened, yes. The gallu was not a man to taunt. He would kill her if he caught her, simply break her body over his knee, and toss her into the snow to die. But she had no choice. The only way to Umar and safety was through the gap where he stood guard. And standing here shivering in apprehension would not take them there.

“Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu. Sva, sva.” Keeping to the right edge of the main glade, near the trees, she drove slowly towards the saddle. The snow was falling more thickly now, but she could see the glow of the fire. Then, at about a hundred paces away, she stopped.

She took a deep breath. This was it. She made a high pitched squealing sound and immediately the dogs started barking. Silhouetted against the flames a man was standing, peering into the darkness.

“Hai, hai. Geeah, geeah,” she called, and the barking increased to a frenzy. Tsu-tsu trotted forward, curving sharply round to the left

“Ksai, ksai. Ksai, ksai.” Tsu-tsu broke into a gallop. Had she left it too late? How long would it take them to get after her?

They all would have left their animals harnessed and ready, so it would not be long. As she turned onto the Lusagaz trail, she flung a glance behind her along the track. Nothing visible, but she could hear shouts not far away.

A shape took form, dark against the snow. The hunter, holding a bushy sapling upright in each hand. She veered round in front of him, and stopped.

The hunter dropped the larger sapling across her tracks, then leaning over it, swept with the smaller sapling to mask the turning. Then, squatting onto the runners behind her, with his back to her, he swept back and forth as they moved into the woods. It would hide their tracks from a casual glance at night, and that was all they needed.

“Far enough,” said the hunter. “Now we wait, and see if they take the bait … Yes, listen.”

The rushing sound of sled runners in snow, then, “Wooah, wooah.”

They were stopping. Why?

Another voice. “Brother, the tracks follow the Lusagaz trail. I will follow them, go you and fire the beacon.”

“The gallu says not to fire it.”

“Hai, who do we serve, the gallu or the atu? I do not trust him. He left Qui this morning with a ’bou sled and now he has a dogsled. So where is the ’bou sled? He says the sled driver is just a maid. How does he know that? Why does he wait at the fire, and send us to chase the sled? There’s too much here that stinks like a kula-ka’a five days dead. Fire the beacon, and follow me on the Lusagaz trial. Go, go. Hai, hai, ksai, ksai,” and the sleds moved off, one on the Lusagaz trail, one towards Qui.

The hunter turned to Ninsha. “The gallu has not come. You have meat, I can smell it. Give it to me and I will try to draw the dogs.”

“And die when the gallu catches you. No, it is the gallu we must draw now, not his dogs. Only one thing will draw the gallu, someone making off with his prize. This is for me alone. You have done what you can, ugula-gar,” and she made the homage gesture. “May the Dingir guide and guard you. Go now, like the kula-ka’a.”

“May the Dingir protect you and those in your care, namkisikil.” He made homage to her in return and stepped off the sled. She turned her head towards the pass, opened her mouth and screamed. Just once, but long. If that did not draw him, nothing would.

“Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu,” and they started moving slowly up the glade. She kept Tsu-tsu on a tight rein: she couldn’t see the main trail through the trees, so anyone on the trail couldn’t see her, but they could hear. A snapping branch, and the dogs would hear it, and look towards them, and the gallu, already suspicious, would see them and wonder, and perhaps check.

Perhaps he was already so suspicious that he had not taken the bait. She wouldn’t know until she reached the edge of the forest. If he hadn’t taken it, what then?

She realised that even then, she must go, because the scream would have drawn the woodsmen back. Had she thought this properly through?

How could anyone cope with this: balancing risk and safety, moving or staying hidden, when so much was unknown and guesswork, and the fear, of the cold and the snow, of the wind and the night, of the atu coming with all his men, of the watchers, but most of all of the gallu, close by, angry and vengeful. It was like being in a trap closing from all sides, and not knowing what lay beyond. And all on no sleep for thirty-six hours. She was now approaching the edge of the wood, and the woodsmen’s fire was less than fifty paces away. She must decide, and now.

_All you can do is your best, Ninsha._

She shook her head to clear it. The woodsmen would be coming back. So she would only have one chance to get through, and this was it. If the gallu was there, he would be standing at the fire, watching in the warm, rather than waiting at his sled. So wherever anyone was, she was best served by speed: she must leave the woods at the gallop, get past the fire as quickly as she could. If he was there and on his sled, the Dingir help them. If not, they had a chance. And if he wasn’t there at all, the fire would be the best place to leave her little trap.

 “Amunita bela, next to you is that bag with the meat.”

“I know that, Ninsha. It has been smelling these two hours.”

“Give it to me, please. And hold the gallu’s cape in your hand ready to give to me.”

“What are we going to do?”

Ninsha looped the meat bag over one of the antlers.

“We’re going to run for it. Pray to your household gods, Amunita bela. We need all the help we can get. Hold Lea bela tight. Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu. Ksai, ksai, ksai!”

They broke out of the trees at a full gallop. Why was it so bright? Ninsha threw a glance down the trail. The beacon, the beacon was alight, flame seeping through it, and in the light she could see two men and two sleds, one dog, one ‘bou. The way to the summit of the pass was clear!

“Geeah, geeah,” and they swung onto the trail. “Amunita bela, look back and tell me what they are doing.”

Amunita leant across to see past her. “It looks like … oh, they are fighting. Why? Oh, one has fallen. Oh, oh, another sled has come from the side. Oh, oh, more fighting. What is going on?”

 “Looah, looah, Tsu-tsu.” Ninsha slowed, and threw a glance back. Men grappling, silhouetted against the firelight. If one of them was the gallu, such a fight could have only one end.

“What are you waiting for?” cried Amunita. “Ninsha, he will be coming. We must go, we must go.”

Ninsha ignored her. Just beyond the fire, she dropped the cape, leaning down to spread it open, a big dark patch on the white. A few paces forward and she scattered the meat cubes. He would stop for the cape, his own cape, and his dogs would smell, find, and bolt the meat. And then it was just time, her fleeing, him chasing, and the drugs seeping into his dogs. How much time? Enough? Only the Dingir knew.

“Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu,” and a few moments later they were on the wagon trail cut into the rockface, traversing steeply up the last cliffs. She glanced across, down the meadow. Standing against the light of the beacon were now just two bou sleds, still and quiet, the woodsmen no doubt lying struck down beside them. But on the trail across the meadow, dark against the snow, came a dogsled. In the distance she heard a yell. The gallu. Tsu-tsu heard also, and tried to break into a canter, but Ninsha reined him in. The trail was too steep and the ‘bou would just squander precious energy, energy they’d need later. Umar was still many miles away.

A hundred paces or so later they reached the top, and now, on the flat, she called out, “Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu. Ksai, ksai, ksai!” and the ‘bou broke into a gallop. A curve to the left, a swerve to the right, and they were through, through the summit of the Pass of Qui, and on the descent to Umar.

The imhullu hit her like a slap. The wind dragged tears from her eyes with its force, and froze those tears on her cheeks with its coldness. The sleet stung like hail against her bared skin.

“Looah, looah,” and as the sled slowed, she leant forward, bracing her body against the crossbar, reaching out to her bela’s hood. They hit a bump in the trail, and for a moment she was almost airborne, her feet off the runners, her arms flailing for balance.

Hai, that was foolish. If she fell from the sled, they would be dead and gone, for the gallu would catch them before she could get back on again. She must let Amunita help, reluctant though she was, both to let anyone else do anything for her bela, and to trust Amunita to do it right.

“Amunita, pull Lea bela’s hood down over her face and tie it.” It was hard to talk, to shout, for the wind whipped the words from her mouth. And Amunita just stared at her. What was wrong with the girl? Did she not understand? “Do it now, and do yours, your skin is not used to this cold, you will get frostbite. Do it, do it now, Amunita, do it!” The girl stared at her a moment longer, then, putting her hands around Lea bela’s head, checked that her rabbit skin neckerchief was in place, over her lower face and nose, then pulled the hood down, tying it into place. Then she did her own, so that only the slight glisten of her eyes showed that a living being was in that mound of furs.

What had been the matter with her? Why had she not responded immediately? With the icy wind, any fool could see the danger. If the silly girl wanted to risk herself, that was her business, but Ninsha would not have her risking Lea bela.

Lea ‘bela:’ was that it? She had called the girl ‘Amunita,’ not ‘Amunita bela.’ That was how she thought of her, and in the extremity of the situation, that was what she had called her, to her face. She was a bela by birth, but otherwise just a foolish, headstrong girl. She had done nothing to earn any distinction. Quite the opposite, she had done much to lose it, if such a thing was possible. Lea bela was Lea bela even in Ninsha’s thoughts, as was Amata beltu and Ashluta beltu. They had been born belas, but what they had done with their lives deserved respect. Would Amunita take offence? In Adir, even Qui, certainly. The least she would have got was a slap. But out here, in the wild? She could not afford to: she depended on Ninsha to get her to safety. Not only out of the wild, but away from the gallu.

The gallu. Why had he struck down the woodsmen? Surely it made more sense to chase with three rather than one? But no, he was alone, which meant he must believe he could catch them alone. And if he had left the woodsmen, he must surely have killed them too, to stop them from telling the atu what had happened. The taking of two more lives would mean nothing to such a man: the coachman, the woodsmen, and, when they were of no further use to him, her and Amunita.

He would have to catch her first. She glanced back. No, she could see nothing: her eyes were half blinded by tears, wind and sleet. She could not even see the trail in front of her. All she could do was let the reins go slack, and leave it to Tsu-tsu to pick out the trail.

She loosed her hair, then pinned it into place over her forehead and eyes, using the bone pins. Her rabbit skin neckerchief she pulled up to cover her lower face. Hai, her hands were freezing, she must get them back into the mittens.

Behind her, she was sure the gallu could see even less, not having long hair to pull over his eyes. Was he doing the same thing, leaving his dogs to follow them, haul them in, bring them down. A pity she had given him his cape back.

“Ksai, ksai.” Tsu-tsu broke into a gallop, that quickly subsided into a trot again. She must trust him, he could see the way for better than her, and knew what was safe and what was not. But she knew, and could not tell him, that they needed to keep ahead of the dogs.

Then, quite suddenly, he knew too. His ears twitched, his head turned to one side and he sniffed the air, and with no urging, he broke into a canter. The risk balance point had shifted for him too.

On, on, the trail ran straight, across the hillside, angling downwards. Here Tsu-tsu could almost match pace with the dogs. Would the drug have affected them yet? Surely it must, with the dogs’ smaller bodies and high energy burn.

The caribou slowed. A hairpin bend in the trail, taking them across the hillside the other way.

“Ksai, ksai,” and the ‘bou broke into a canter. Soon he slowed again, for another bend, and then back, traversing again, but descending all the time.

Ninsha glanced up at the way they’d come: nothing, no one. Had they done it? Escaped? Were they free, free to reach the safety of Umar and the beltu’s protection?

What was that dark shape on the trail ahead? She peered out. Was it… how could it be… Then doubt vanished and her heart plummeted as the gallu yelled, “Wooah, wooah,” and stepped out, brandishing a whip.

“Sva, sva, Tsu-tsu,” she called, and the caribou swerved to the left, but immediately veered back again. And she could see why: the hillside just here was almost straight down. To go off-trail was death.

“Wooah, wooah, you bastard.” Hai, he was still saying it wrong, stupid man. Not that it would make any difference, with him and his dogsled blocking the trail.

Tsu-tsu began to slow.

“Hai, Tsu-tsu, ksai, ksai,” she called, but he did not respond. He was scared of his old master, and she knew how he felt.

But: where was the dogsled? Behind the gallu was no dark shape, no snarling pack of half-wolves.

Just the gallu, alone, with his whip. And his aura of fear. But an aura was just air.

“Stop, stop,” he shouted, and again she had to fight down the impulse to obey, to stop, to throw herself at his feet and beg his forgiveness.

Instead, she shrieked, “Hai, Tsu-tsu, Tsu-tsu, ksai, ksai, Tsu-tsu.”

“Bastard, bastard, woohaa, woohaa, you bastard,” yelled the gallu.

Who would Tsu-tsu obey, the man who had driven him brutally these last few years, or the girl who had brought him up with love and gentleness? Surely fear would be stronger than affection?

But Tsu-tsu surged forward into a gallop. He was almost on the gallu now, the big Findian screaming at him, the ‘bou with his head down, as if he were sparring with another bull.

The man sprang to one side, swinging his whip at the caribou, but at the same moment Ninsha called, “Sva, sva, Tsu-tsu, sva, sva.” The big caribou swung to the left and cannoned into the gallu’s shoulder, sending him flying down the steep hillside.

The sled tilted sideways and Amunita screamed. Hai, the runner must be all but off the edge of the trail. “Geeah, geeah, Tsu-tsu.” she called, but already he had swung back to centre trail.

“Ksai-,” she began, then stopped. He was already at full gallop and needed no urging. The impact had barely slowed him in his headlong charge.

The gallu’s yells of, “Bitch, bitch, bitch, I’ll kill you,” faded within a few moments, and the only sounds were those of the sled runners swishing through the snow, the rhythmic thudding of Tsu-tsu’s hooves, and her own heart beating wildly.

They were past, and this time, she was sure, beyond pursuit. He had not had the sled, which could only mean the dogs or some of them could not run. Balked in his pursuit, he must have run down the hillside from the upper hairpin bend to catch them lower down. Hai, that man had cunning and resolve. His last desperate move had almost won him victory. If Tsu-tsu had passed him just one pace to the right, the gallu would have been facing a ninety pound girl instead of a six hundred pound caribou. She, at best, would be lying battered and bruised in the sled; at worst, a broken body somewhere in the snow, dead or dieing. Her bela …

But they weren’t. It was him lying battered and bruised in the snow and they were well down the trail. But was Tsu-tsu hurt? He kept tossing his head. No, something was dangling from his antlers: the gallu’s whip. She stopped, disentangled it, and flung it away. It was good plaited leather, but she had the thongs she had taken from the cold store, and felt revulsion at anything of the gallu’s.

“Good boy, Tsu-tsu, good boy,” and she stroked his nose, then kissed it. He nickered at her, still breathing deeply.

“Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu,” and she swung onto the runners as the sled passed her.

So now the only watchers left were those at the halfway serai, and Ninsha was not going that way. Even without the black ice on the Tiers of the Annunaki, she would not have gone that way. Leading off from the last great loop in the trail was the herders’ path leading south, across the frozen hillside, away from the amphitheatre of the Dingir and the Umar Valley, and descending the rocky cliffs of the wall of Iribal.

“Loaah, loaah.” They still had hours to go, and she must not waste Tsu-tsu’s energy unnecessarily. Also, they could not be far from the herders’ path now and she must watch for it. It was difficult to see in the dark and it would be easy to overshoot it. To backtrack would be dangerous and time-consuming, for surely, at some stage, the gallu would come down the trail. If he could still shout and curse at her, he could not be badly hurt. She must not miss the turning.

Would Tsu-tsu remember? She had taken him that way only once, and that time without a sled. But now she had to take her sled down there, her sled and her bela.

He slowed, of his own accord, and she stared ahead, her eyes stinging in the wind. The trail was clear, but … Was that a slight hollow in the bank on the uphill side? The sort of hollow made by a herd of caribou crossing a bank? Yes … yes, it was.

“Geeah, geeah, Tsu-Tsu, clever boy, clever boy, Tsu-Tsu.”

And if her clever boy was clever enough to find the start of the trail, he would be clever enough to follow it. Hai, it was wonderful to be able to share the weight of responsibility, even if it was with a caribou. Though Amunita had helped, she could not deny. Amunita had held her bela in place when the sled was pitching and heaving, Amunita had wrapped her bela carefully, and made sure she stayed wrapped. Though terrified, Amunita had not distracted Ninsha by talking of it, by demanding reassurance. Yes, Amunita had surprised her. She had acted like a woman of Amata beltu’s blood, not like the spoiled brat she had been before.

How long would it last? Ninsha hoped at least until Umar, for some of this part of the journey they would be doing on foot. The path was too narrow for a sled, and she would need Amunita to lead Lea bela along narrow precipitous caribou tracks, and down steep rocky paths. She herself would be lowering the sled down rock bands, dragging it a short way, then lowering it again, using the thonging. And all in the dark, using half visible features and half forgotten memories. But the dangers here were of the land, not of people. They were the dangers she had faced from birth, and were almost like old friends.

And at the end she could deliver her bela into the protection of one far more powerful than she could ever be. At last she would be able to sleep. How many hours had it been? She was too tired to work it out, and anyway it didn’t matter because she couldn’t sleep yet.


	36. Umar

Ninsha would have thought it was impossible to nap while standing on the runners of a sled and holding to the driving bow, but she had been doing it when the dark walls of Umar rose up before them. The change in pace and Tsu-tsu’s snort had roused her.

At the Iribal gate she had spun a tale of a broken sled runner which had delayed them. The guard had shrugged: five hours after curfew was five hours after curfew. It had taken one bribe to gain entrance, another for permission to take a sled through the silent streets at night and a third for a guide to Ashluta beltu’s house. Together they had come to more than Ninsha had earned in three months in the weaver shop, but Amunita considered them small bribes. Still, Ninsha didn’t mind spending them because a bribed guard was less likely to tell his gardugar about their passing. Not that it would matter once they reached the beltu.

It was not yet midnight by the waterclock in the marketplace when they climbed the stairs to the beltu’s front door and tugged on the bell pull.

After a long wait the door opened a crack and a footman peered out. “Hai?” Curtly.

“Lea bela of Findias and her maid, and Amunita bela Taskarin of Adir seek entrance to Ashluta beltu’s house.”

“Hai!” A woman’s voice, from behind him. The footman was pushed to one side and the housekeeper stood forward. “The moon maiden? Ashluta beltu thinks you are dead, all of you, in a carriage that fell from the cliffs.”

Before Ninsha could say anything, Amunita spoke. “It was a trick, a foul trick to get Lea bela back into the citadel. We were not in the carriage when it fell. May we enter, abrig-sikil?”

“Hai, of course, belahin. Come in, come in. Idun, take the caribou around to the stables. Wake a stable boy, see that he is stabled, dried and brushed, and fed him. Oats. Yes, oats. The animal has had a hard journey, anyone can see. Put the sled under cover, hang the fur up to dry, not too close to the fire. See yourself that all is done properly, I will send someone to check.” She turned to them. “Hai, you too have had a hard journey from … somewhere. I am sorry, our staff are abed, but I can arrange for food, hot baths, and bed. Let me take your capes and hang them. Hai, the Findian bela, she is not well?”

“She has been drugged,” said Amunita. “After they abducted us on the pass, they dragged us back to Qui. When Lea bela said she would not marry the atu, the sukkal drugged her to make her sign the marriage papers. That was dishonourable, to force a maiden against her wishes.” Was this really Amunita speaking? “But we escaped, through Ninsha’s cleverness, and her boldness, and her nomad skills, yes, from the citadel, up through the forest to the pass, then down to Umar.” This was indeed a changed Amunita. “The atu comes behind, only three or four hours away, but we are here now, within the protection of Ashluta beltu once again, so he cannot touch us.”

The housekeeper stepped back and raised her hands. “But… but, you do not know, bela? The beltu bursuma is not here. Ashluta beltu has gone to Adir to tell of this tragic happening. She left the day after she arrived, by carriage, early, saying she was going to do double stages. By now she is halfway to Adir.”

Ninsha led Lea bela to a bench against the wall, sank down and put her hand over her eyes.

“But you shall stay, yes,” said the housekeeper, “and we shall hide you, and send word Ashluta beltu, and she will return.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, we must stay and hide,” and Amunita looked at Ninsha.

Ninsha closed her eyes. Hai, she was so tired. Her bela, oblivious to everything, even this disastrous collapse of all their hopes, had slept in the sled in spite of the icy wind. Even Amunita had dozed off and on. How long had it been since Ninsha had been able to sleep? She had been awake since the morning of the signing, when Ibba had taken Lea bela to the sukkal. What was that? Only forty hours? It seemed forever. So much had happened.

And all in vain. All the striving, the danger, the risk, and their fortress of safety had turned out to have walls of mist. Mist in which they could hide, but gave no other protection. And hide for how long? The atu would be here in a few hours, and he would turn Umar upside down and shake it to find Lea bela. A messenger to the beltu, even if the sukkal of Umar allowed it, or, allowing it, did not then waylay it, would take at least three days to reach Adir, doing triple stages, and the beltu at least five days returning.

So, eight days? They’d be back in Qui in two. The beltu would know the truth, yes, but would that restrain the atu? He had been balked of his prize when she was all but in his hands. His anger as well as his passion would be inflamed. He may well take his prize, and say damn the consequences. She opened her eyes again.

Amunita was still looking at her. “Ninsha-”

Ninsha raised her hand and Amunita stopped. “We must go on.”

“On?” said Amunita, her voice rising. “How can we go on? On where? You said we would be safe here and we are not. Adir is ten days away.”

“Unu,” said the housekeeper, “you cannot go on. Look at the state of you. You can barely stand. Come, sleep now, and tomorrow things will look better. Besides, how can anyone get down the Tiers of the Annunaki? They are all black ice by now.”

Hai, that was tempting. She must sleep, yes, no matter what, or otherwise she would be useless for anything. But she knew that when dawn came, it would be too late. She must think, decide, now, with a mind in a fog of tiredness, and it was so, so hard.

She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Abrig-sikil, please, just listen. I am too tired to argue but I know what I must do. The atu is coming, down from the pass. They will use the ice crusher for the Tiers, we heard them talking of it. They are coming and we must be gone before they enter Umar. We cannot hide. Even now an agent of the sukkal may be telling him we are here.”

The housekeeper pursed her lips, then nodded.

“So we cannot hide even half a day. Please, prepare dry rations, five days, two people.”

“But where will you go, unu?” said the housekeeper. “Into the desert? For the trail to Adir is the first place they will seek.”

“They will seek here first, and that will give us perhaps a day’s start. It will have to be enough.”

“But what about your bela? She looks pale and thin.”

“We are worried about her, Abrig-sikil. She drinks but hardly eats. She was last dosed by the drug a day and a half ago, but has not roused.”

“The water is pure that she drinks?”

“From mountain streams, Abrig-sikil. We have rinsed the flask many times. We hoped to ask the beltu bursuma’s advice, but …”

“You are the nomad daughter, namkisikil, are you not?”

Ninsha nodded.

The housekeeper stepped forward and kissed her brow. “The beltu bursuma spoke highly of you, namkisikil. And by your craft and courage you have already reached Umar. So I will do your bidding, though I fear for you.”

But Amunita was frowning. “Rations for two people? You mean three people.”

“No, Amunita bela” said Ninsha. “You are safe here. Your cousin the lugal is here. No one can harm you here.”

“No one but the atu of Qui, the sukkal of Qui, the gallu, and all their men. My cousin was useless before, he will be useless now. The sukkal of Umar, we know, is a treacherous cur. They will take me and torture me to say where you gone, and throw my body into the marshes. A girl alone? Who would help me?”

“Amunita bela-” she was too tired to argue. “You cannot come. I have brought you out of Qui, I can take you no further. The atu wants to marry Lea bela. He does not want to marry you. You are the lugal of Adir’s niece. The atu dare not harm you.” She turned to the housekeeper. “Abrig-sikil, will you prepare the food? And feed and water my caribou? We must leave before dawn. And can you get us out of Umar unseen?”

The housekeeper, looking with wide eyes from her to Amunita and back, said, “I will do those things, namkisikil. All of them, and well, do not worry about that. My grandson and my great-nephew will take you through the gate. A caravan leaves for Adir an hour before dawn tomorrow. You can slip out with them, and so get ahead of pursuit. Knowing the trail, you will be able to cover two stages in one, and perhaps camp beyond the second serai.”

Yes, and the atu would go to the third stage and lie in wait. She could go into the desert, but the desert was flat. A watcher could stand on a low rise and see for miles around. Once spotted they were finished. Or she could cross the desert, straight east, and go, into the highlands, onto the tundra, the tundra that she knew so well. No one would find them there. It would take many days to reach Adir, but that way would be the safest. That would be best, yes. The only other way, which was no way at all, was to cross the Agammu. “That is a good plan, Abrig-sikil.”

The housekeeper smiled at her. “Come, wash, eat and sleep, before you drop.”

 

It seemed she had hardly put her head down before the housekeeper was gently shaking her foot.

“Namkisikil, unu, wake, wake,” and when Ninsha turned, said, “it is time to go. All is ready. We have tried to feed Lea bela, but all she would take were a few spoonfuls of rice. She needs a physician, namkisikil, as soon as you can arrange it. Your ‘bou is fed, your sled provisioned, and ready. My great-nephew has taken it and is already with the carts and wagons in the square before the Adir Gate, waiting. All you have to do is join him, and my grandson will take you. All that is done, namkisikil, but I have other news, bad news. Lights, pitch torches coming down from the pass.”

The atu, closing on them. Lea bela, needing a physician. Her safe tundra route, taking many days. And Ninsha felt, if anything, more tired than before. She swung her legs off the bed, then stood.

“How long?”

“They are on the last Tiers of the Annunaki, so perhaps one hour, namkisikil.”

One hour. That was no time at all. Why had she not been wakened earlier? “I must prepare my bela, and we must go.” Go … where?

“Your bela is prepared, namkisikil. Amunita bela has seen to that. But…”

Ninsha looked at her. What more could be wrong?

“Amunita bela says she will not stay. She fears torture. I have told her she is safe, as you said, but….” The woman shrugged. “In these times, is even a young Taskarin bela safe? The lugal of Umar grows weak, the temple strong, the people oppressed. Our sukkal schemes with the sukkal of Qui. Ashluta beltu can speak her mind, but we, the common people, we stay low and quiet like the mouse in the corner. These are bad times, namkisikil.”

“And you? Will they torture you, abrig-sikil?”

“No, I am still Ashluta beltu’s housekeeper, and they would have to answer to her. But I will have to tell them that you are gone, and everything you have told me, namkisikil. So tell me nothing. For this reason I will leave you now. The door is unlocked, and your guide awaits outside.”

 

Amunita was sitting next to Lea bela in the lobby, her arm around her. A single glance at Lea bela told Ninsha there had been no change. She was sitting upright, a look of repose on her face. But the eyes were closed and the face was pale and thinner than before. A physician, she needed a physician. Should she just give up, wait for the atu, and ask for a physician? Surely even the atu would see how ill her bela looked. But then her bela would be back in the hands of the atu, after risking all to escape. No, she must risk Lea bela, and go on. And with the atu less than one hour behind, ‘on’ could not be the desert or the trail. As soon as she saw Ninsha, Amunita said, “I am coming, Ninsha. You cannot cope with Lea bela alone and I am not staying here.”

She did not need another load on her shoulders. But, want it or not, it was there. She would let the girl come if she insisted, but she must understand what she was risking. “Amunita bela, what I plan is dangerous, much more dangerous than coming down from the pass. We follow the road, yes, but on the edge of the marshes, in the mist, so as to be hidden. We will not be staying at the serais. It will be dark, cold and miserable. The marshes are already frozen, but there may be some parts which are not. If I misjudge and we fall into the water, we will die of freezing. Also there is the Namgata, where the Assaku await, and the Teeth of the Annunaki. We must pass them, go through them on the Agammu, on the marshes, not on the land. You will risk your soul as well as your life. I risk this for Lea bela because I have no choice. For you there is a choice. And if you come, if you leave Umar with us, there can be no turning back.”

Amunita was already shaking her head before Ninsha had finished. “You would roast in the underworld before you would endanger Lea bela. So if it is safe for her, it is safe for me.”

“Here you are safe, Amunita bela. With me you will not be. It is not the risks I plan for, it is the risks I cannot plan for. Thin ice, holes hidden by snow or reeds, even wolves. And what about the Assaku?”

“What about you and the Assaku, Ninsha? What about your soul?”

“Lea bela does not believe in the Assaku. I don’t think she believes in any demons at all. She told me that the wailing of the Elullilium, the smells, the mist, they all have a natural explanation. Nothing to do with demons, but everything to do with volcanoes and vents, wind and rain, millions of years and marsh gas. All tangled together and I am too tired to try to untangle it, and probably couldn’t. But my bela is clever and honest and good, so I trust her. But I am just a simple tundra girl.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Ninsha. It was the simple tundra girl that got us from Qui to Umar. I am coming. If you trust Lea bela about the Assaku, so will I. If you will risk Lea bela in the marshes and the ice, the Namgata and the Teeth of the Annunaki, that’s good enough for me. I’m coming, and if we don’t go, we won’t be able to.”

They jumped as the hall bell jangled. Amunita’s arms tightened around Lea bela, but her eyes widened and fixed on Ninsha. A moment later the housekeeper came running in, a young man behind her.

“The city guard,” said the housekeeper. “Someone has betrayed us.”

“But too late,” said the young man. He bobbed his head in respect to Amunita and Lea bela. “Belahin.” He looked at Ninsha. “We took your sled and ‘bou to the Adir gate a full hour ago.”

“Yes,” said the housekeeper. “You can leave by the stables. My grandson will take you. Hamar, can you take them out by the stable gates?”

Hamar shook his head. “No, amamah, they will have set a watch on every door and every gate before they rang the bell. We must go across the roofs and parapets to Dogon the butcher, and down to Slaughter Lane.”

“How can the bela to that? She can walk, she can be led but she cannot see, she cannot understand.”

Hamar looked at Ninsha, spreading his hands to show the length of a bread loaf. “You can lead your bela on a ledge this wide, for thirty paces, namkisikil?”

She must. She nodded and he grinned at her and winked. Hai, he was just a boy, though tall. And cheeky.

The bell jangled again.

“Come,” said the boy, and taking the bags over his shoulders, started up the staircase. Ninsha and Amunita followed, one on each side of Lea bela, hurrying her along.

 

Boys! Ninsha knew the streets of Adir, but this boy knew every backstreet, lane and alley, every shortcut, every empty building, every broken shutter in Umar. They squeezed through narrow gaps between houses, climbed over piles of rubble, descended steps into a cellar then climbed through a coal chute to the next street. Once they had passed from one alley to the next by going into an empty stable yard, up into the hayloft, down again through a sack hoist trapdoor and then out through a hole in the back wall. What girl would have ever have found that way? It had not been easy, leading Lea bela through all this, but they had seen no one, and, she hoped no one had seen them.

She knew they were approaching the Adir gate by the light reflected on the snow, and the noise.

The boy slowed as they approached the mouth of an alley. “Men shouting,” he said, “something is wrong.”

They peered out. The square in front of the gate was lit by pitch torches, some fixed to the walls of the houses and the city wall, some in sockets in carts and wagons. None of the vehicles was moving except, it seemed to Ninsha, to get wedged more tightly against those around it. They pushed their way into the congestion to find the sled. At Tsu-tsu’s head, a young man was standing, looking anxious.

“Hai, Obra. What is going on?”

“I don’t know. Hold up of some sort. Looks like they are looking for something or someone,” and he glanced at Lea bela.

“I will go and look,” said Hamar, and Ninsha said “I will come too.”

“All right,” and the boy held out his hand.

What was this? She had never taken a boy’s hand before. She narrowed her eyes at him and he winked. Cheeky! She put her hand into his, and caught Amunita’s smile. Her face grew warm. Hai, this was just for safety, it would be easy to lose each other in this crowd. It was like an older brother taking his sister’s hand.

They threaded their way through, and stopped near the gate, in the shadow of wagon, Hamar still holding her hand. Would an older brother would do that? But she had other things to think about.

Each cart and wagon was being searched. Men were lifting tarpaulins, opening boxes and chests, holding up lanterns up to look each person in the face. A group of drivers were arguing with three men at the gate, one of them dressed as a priest.

“They are angry because of the hold-up,” said Hamar.

But Ninsha was not looking at them. To one side, under a torch fixed into the city wall was a tall and broad man. His hood shaded his face, but his cape was green in the torchlight. How could he be here? She had left him, up on the mountain with no way of getting down. He’d betrayed the atu for all to see, he murdered two of the atu’s men, yet here he was directing operations on the atu’s behalf.

Ninsha tugged on Hamar’s hand. “Come. I have seen enough. We cannot go this way.” She pulled her hand free, and led the way back.

Amunita already had Lea bela and herself strapped into the basket. “What is happening?”

“The gallu is here.” Amunita’s eyes widened, but Ninsha ignored her. She turned to Hamar. “We must leave by the Iribal gate. Can you get us there? Through the back streets?”

He wagged his head at her. “Of course. But we need to tow your sled out, and that will cause a disturbance. The Findian wolf  might see it. So, while you are moving your caribou, I will go and and give him something else to look at,” and he ran off into the cluster of vehicles again.

Ninsha had freed Tsu-tsu’s harness from the sled and was leading him from front to back when they heard the bellow of an ox, and shouting and swearing from the wagons near the gate.

Quickly Ninsha looped the harness around the sled frame, and speaking softly to Tsu-tsu, they pulled the sled out along a gap between two wagons, and into the alley behind them.

She had the sled turned and Tsu-tsu re-harnessed by the time Hamar returned.

He grinned at Ninsha and held up his dagger. “Just the tip,” he said, “and what a fuss! Obra, you run behind, all right? Ready, egir?”

Egir? She narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded, and stepped onto the runners.

He stepped on behind her and put his hands over hers as she grasped the caribou antlers. “When we get to the square, you must hide under the ‘bou skin, and Obra and me, we can pretend to be eel fishermen. Now go straight ahead, then turn left at the second alley. All right, egir?” Then, “oooff,” for she had jabbed her elbow into his stomach.

“Don’t crowd me, don’t tell me what to do, and don’t call me princess,” she said. Cheeky boy! Still, she let him keep his hands over hers as they rode. Amunita’s eyes were on her face, and she could imagine her grin. Her face grew hot again.

 

They stopped at the entrance to the square in front of the Iribal Gate, and Ninsha hid under the ‘bou hide covering at the front of the sled.

As they entered the square, a horn sounded, and she heard Hamar swear, then call out, “Ho, gatekeeper, I bring orders from the gardugar, that you are to close the gate. Did you hear the horn? No, wait, you must let us out first, for we are to scout. Then close the gate behind us.”

“Orders are that no one passes after the horn is sounded.” The guard’s voice was gruff.

“By the Dingir, man, haven’t you seen the lights on the Tiers, coming down from Qui? The captain fears it is the Hakkan, and we are to scout and report back. So open the gates, and watch for our return. Do it now, for if the Hakkan see us, they will catch us and our goose is cooked.”

She heard the rumble of the gate wheel on the runnerplate as the door opened, and called softly, “Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu. Ksia ksai.” The sled lurched forward, then ran smoothly over the snow.

A few hundred heartbeats, and the sled stopped. The cover lifted, and Hamar offered her his hand to stand up. She took it, and he said, “Over to you now, egir. Me, I would go into the desert, but if you have escaped the Findian wolf once, you will know better than me how to go. Hai, you are a brave one. If you’re going to try to cut across the ice to the main trail, sweep wide to skirt the river melt. I have tried it, you need a thousand paces at least.”

She looked up at him. “And you? Don’t get caught.”

“Hai, don’t worry, egir. Obra and me, we’ll skirt around, go in at the Qui gate with the atu. All wrapped up against the snow, who would recognise us?”

She shook her head. “Don’t go back to the beltu bursuma’s egal. The sukkal’s men will know you are gone from the house, that you helped us escape. They will catch and torture you. Is there a place you can hide for a few weeks, ‘til this blows over, ‘til the beltu bursuma returns, and can protect you?”

“Hai, daughter of the owl. Even with the wolf snarling on your tracks, you can see wide and deep. You are right, egir.” He turned to Obra. “What do you think, cousin?”

“The jackals will be waiting, yes. And the atu will come like the stormwind. Hot knives will be waiting to search out what we know. We should go to Durakin.”

“Yes.” Hamar looked at Ninsha. “Two days up the Umar River, at theTemple of the Duriganzir. We have family in the town there, and the place is always full of pilgrims coming to see the Eternal Flame. Two more strangers will not be noticed. But we delay you, egir. You must go, or all is in vain. Follow the sled tracks, but do not take the first turning, take the second, for that takes you onto a sandbar which will take you a hundred paces out into the marsh. Go on the right-hand side, for it is icy there, and you will leave few tracks.” He bobbed his head to Amunita and Lea bela. “Belahin. May the Dingir be with you.”


	37. Into the Agammu

Ninsha stood at the end of the sandbar, looking out into the marshes. An icy wind was blowing, the cold air seeping into her parka. Snowflakes whitened the dark of the foxfur hood. Before her lay reeds and tussocks of tough marsh grass and ice, stiff and brittle, the reed plumes delicately picked out in fresh snow. Beyond, everything dissolved into darkness, darkness which would turn white when dawn came, but show little more.

The Agammu. Now the only way that gave any chance of escaping the atu. And it was a sure way, for no sane person would attempt to cross it. It was the one place he would never look.

And with reason. In Umar, warm, comfortable, fed, the solid walls of a stone house around her, it had seemed possible … just. But now, standing facing it, she was terrified. Before her lay a hundred miles of mist shrouded, unknown marsh. She’d walked out onto the ice and tapped it with the sounding rod, and the dull thud told her it was solid and thick. But one, just one bit of thin ice in all that distance, just one mistake, one misjudgement on her part, and they would break though into the water below. Then they would be as good as dead, for even if they could get out of the water, they could not get warm again. The cold would take them, as it had taken so many tundra people, on land and water, and their bodies would be food for the wolves or the marsh creatures. Her bela and her, Amunita and Tsu-tsu would disappear, and no one would ever know what had happened to them. And this was besides the Dingir and the demons.

How could she ever believe she could take her bela into that world, and bring her out again alive? That world of snow and ice, of mist and wind, of vast emptiness.

She had brought her bela to Umar, but by daring and quick wits, by taking chances. Quick wits and daring would not help here, they would only increase the risk. On the tundra she’d learned early that Nature did not care, had no pity, did not help the weak, did not forgive mistakes. Nature would strike you down, good or bad, right or wrong, strong or weak. And facing her was Nature in all its savagery and power.

Could she even find a way across the Agammu, through a hundred miles of mist and fog? Even if there was a way through the Teeth of the Annunaki, would she be able to find it? If, as Lea bela had said, there were vents and hot steam there, would that not melt the ice? She could not cross open water with the sled.

And the sled. Could it take the journey? They had built it, her father and her, for rough country, for the tundra, but on the tundra one could choose a smooth route. Here, on the marshes, the choice would be between tussocks and the ice. The ice was smooth and easy going, but dangerous, for below it was the water and, if the ice broke, death. The sled would have been neglected by the gallu. Such a man would not take care of anything, just use it ‘til it broke, and then curse it. So, the leather thongs would not have been greased, the knots tightened, the basket or the wood oiled. Just as Tsu-tsu had been neglected. Would he be able to draw a laden sled for a hundred miles of rough country? Already he had done much, bringing them to Umar.

Hai, so much could go wrong: she could get lost, the ice could shatter, the sled could break, the ‘bou become too weak: any of those, just one, and they were dead. And overshadowing everything, the Assaku, waiting, watching, ready to seize them and dragged them down to Hubur. All her life she had believed in them. Now, on the edge of the Agammu, looking into the waste, she believed again.

And she was going to take her bela into that world? Could she risk it? She would be, in the words of the poet, dancing with Death. Dancing with Death with her bela in her arms. Surely being alive in the hands of the atu was better than being dead in the Agammu?

Dawn was coming, and with it, more danger, for the atu would be in Umar by this time, searching and not finding, so casting the net wider and wider. How long before someone noticed their tracks? Had the falling snow covered them enough? Even if it had, someone would see the crushed tussock grass and broken reeds. Someone like the gallu, who now knew enough about Ninsha to look beyond expected places like the trail to Adir.

What should she do, what should she do, how could she know what to do? She stood there, getting colder and colder in the chill wind, Tsu-tsu getting restless, Amunita wondering what she was waiting for, her bela … her bela trusting her.

_All you can do, Ninsha, is your best._

Yes. “Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu,” and she grabbed the antlers and swung into place on the runners as the sled moved past her, onto the ice and into the Agammu. It was down to her.

“Geeah, geeah Tsu-tsu,” and the ‘bou angled to the right. She must stay close to the eges of the ponds, so that if the sled broke though the ice, the water below would be shallow. The going would be slow, for they’d be riding over humps and tussocks, and going in curves rather than straight, but to ride straight across the middle of the ponds was too risky. She’d steer south-south-west, which would take her aound the melt of the River Umar, and then to the Teeth. Then she would cross one of the gaps between the Teeth, and head south to Adir. Such was her plan.

 

Dawn came, and she saw she need not have worried about being seen. They could be sitting a wagon length beyond the gates, and all Umar would be none the wiser. The mist was so thick she could hardly make out Tsu-tsu’s ears.

 

They had been running for about two hours before Ninsha pulled up onto a sandbar so that they could relieve themselves and stretch their legs.

“Ninsha,” said Amunita, “when will we able to see the Adir trail? It is scary being out here on the ice in the mist all the time.”

Ninsha had been expecting this, sooner or later. “We will not be seeing that trail, Amunita bela. We are going another way.”

Amunita stared at her. “But you said we would be next to it, just on the edge of the marshes.”

“I said that in case others were listening.” And in case you changed your mind and stayed behind, and had to tell the gallu what I had said. “We are not going anywhere near the Adir trail.”

“But there is only one trail to Adir, isn’t there? I have never heard of another.”

The girl had no idea. “We are not following a trail, Amunita bela. We are going across the marshes.”

“But … but … no one can cross the Agammu, everyone knows that.”

“In summer, yes. In winter it is all ice and we can ride the ice with the sled.”

“But Ninsha, it is not the water that stops men crossing the Agammu, it is the mist. Mist in summer and winter. This mist, all around us. How will you find the way?”

“As I have been since we came onto the ice,” and Ninsha held up the compass.

Amunita’s eyes widened. “That? That… toy that Lea bela showed us? With the silly needle, swinging this way and that? It was just a lesson, Ninsha. She didn’t mean us to use it to guide us in places where we might _die_.”

Hai, she was so right. “The use is the same, Amunita bela, whether we might die or not.”

“And maps?” The pitch of Amunita’s voice was rising. “Lea bela used it with maps. We have no maps, Ninsha.”

“There are no maps of the Agammu, Amunita bela, because of the mist. The map which Lea bela showed us, I have here,” and she tapped her head. “Anyway, all we need to know is that Adir is due south of Umar.

“But if there are no maps, and nobody has ever crossed the Agammu, how do we know what is there? There could be a chasm or a gorge or a range of mountains, or anything.”

“Water which enters the Agammu at Umar leaves the Agammu at Adir. That tells us that the marshes must go the whole way except for the Teeth of the Annunaki. So any chasms will be full of water and frozen, and we will just go over the top, on the ice.”

“But you don’t know, you are just guessing.”

That was so true, but she must make Amunita believe she knew what she was doing. Otherwise she would question, question, question all the time. Ninsha could not cope with Amunita’s doubts as well as her own. “It is a guess supported by observation, knowledge of local geology and rational analysis.” Did that sound learned enough?

“I always got a headache when Lea bela spoke like that. What does it mean?”

“It means it is a best guess, Amunita bela. It means it is a guess that is likely to be right.”

“And the ice? If the ice breaks?”

We die, either by drowning or from cold after climbing out. “That is why I was checking the ice.”

Amunita closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “So where are we going now, Ninsha?”

“To the Teeth of the Annunaki, to find a way through to the marsh beyond.”

“But the demons, the Assaku are there, Ninsha!”

“We spoke of those, Amunita bela, and you said that you were prepared to risk it if Lea bela was.”

“That was just round the edges, close to the land. Maybe the Assaku would not notice us. In the middle, that will be full of demons.”

Ninsha did not answer. One or many, it made no difference. If they were real, it would take only one to drag them down the Passages of the Dead.

“Ninsha?”

“Lea bela does not believe in the Assaku or the Annunaki. She says this,” and she waved her hand around, “is science, not demons. We talked of this, Amunita bela.”

“It would be easy not to believe in them, hundreds of miles away in Findias. Maybe even, for Lea bela, in Adir or Umar. But here, in the middle of the Agammu, with the wind and the ice and the nothingness, she would believe.”

Ninsha shook her head, and Amunita said, “No?”

“You saw, when we crossed the Namgata, and were in the Garden of Umar, she stopped and walked, and I with her. But she had wanted to walk from the other side of the Stumps, through the mist and stench and the elullilium. It was like she was looking at the inscriptions on some temple. Very interesting, even fascinating, but nothing to be scared of.”

“She is crazy, we have always known that. But you? What do you believe, Ninsha?”

She had believed in the Assaku all her life, along with all her people. But: “Amunita bela, I have been in many frightening places, empty, dark, cold places with the wind howling round me. I have never seen a spirit or a demon.” Though of course, she had never looked. Who would go looking for a demon? She had just burrowed down and pulled the furs over her head. But still, nothing had ever happened. “I trust Lea bela on this.” Did she? She had no choice.

Amunita shook her head. “It is too much Ninsha, all these things, the Agammu and the ice and the demons and the mist and not knowing the way. It is too much.”

“No, Amunita bela, it is not too much, for they are not together like the Iribal Wall which we must climb all at once. They are one after the other, like hills in the trail, and we cross them one at a time.”

Amunita was silent, and Ninsha said, “Amunita bela, do you want to go back?” Hai, was she becoming like the sukkal, scheming? They could not go back, she knew that.

Amunita looked at her, then shook her head. “It is too late. If we go back now the atu will get Lea bela. I wish she was awake, so she could say: ‘Yes, this is so, this is safe.’ No, we must go on, Ninsha. We must trust in Tsu-tsu’s strength, in your skills, in Lea bela’s science.”

Hai, this girl had grown up more in the past two days than in the ten years preceding that.

 

Ninsha turned her head slightly, listening. Yes, no doubt. A sound, up ahead. Not the elullilium, not a wailing of regret, of apprehension, of fear, but a roaring, faint but clear, like a bull caribou bellowing his challenge. But not a caribou, for the sound went on and on, rising and falling, not stopping for breath. What could it be? Monsters? The great lion-headed man of legend? But that was just a tale, one of many that her amamah had told her and Gazia.

Demons then? Were the priests right and her bela wrong? Was this a warning from the Dingir? ‘ _Foolish girl, who are you to challenge the will of the temple, of our high priests? Who are you to disbelieve their teachings? Who are you to wander into this forbidden place? Turn back now, before it is too late!_ ’

She reined Tsu-tsu in and stopped. It was true that so far nothing had gone right. She’d resisted the sukkal, but it was only by taking the most desperate chance that she had freed her bela from Qui, and by even more desperate chances from the gallu. Her hopes of Umar had proved barren, And here she was in a place so dangerous that no man ever ventured here. No man, just a tundra girl with her bela. Her words to Amunita bela had been brave, and she had believed them, but now she was doubting.

Even here, everything seemed against her. Marshes were just water, mostly shallow water with reeds, so, when frozen, they should be flat and easy riding in a sled. They were not, not at all. They were uneven, full of hummocks of marsh grass and reeds, and hillocks of windblown snow. Yes, flat places with easy riding were there, out in the open across the ponds and lakes, where marsh grass and reeds did not grow. It was enticing, yes, but she knew that the marsh grass and reeds did not grow because the water was too deep. If the ice gave way, they would plunge in and never come out again. This early in the winter the ice would be thin. So she must stay on the edges, and steer around the hummocks and the drifts and hillocks, and that slowed their travel speed to little more than a walking pace.

But being safe in the little things meant being unsafe in the big things. Her bela was ill, and she needed to get her to a healer in Adir as soon as she could. The atu and the gallu were still after her, and the longer she spent on the ice, the longer they would have to find some trick to catch her. And she was tired, and tired people didn’t think clearly, and made mistakes, and the Agammu would not forgive mistakes.

Growing up a nomad, she’d learnt that the tundra was unforgiving. Still, she knew the ways of that world: what to do, what not to do, how to survive. The Agammu had been another world, where one did not go, did not even think of going. A world which, even if it had not been the abode of demons and the gateway to Hubur, was a trackless, featureless world of marsh and mist. When she saw she had no choice but to venture into the Agammu, she knew it would be less forgiving even than the tundra. On the tundra you had at least solid land beneath your feet. Here you had a thin, fragile layer of ice, then water, perhaps shallow, perhaps deep, but in either case, cold enough to kill. She knew that, in her head. Now she knew it in her heart. It was not just the mist and ice, but the loneliness, the otherworldliness, being constantly alert for the known and the unknown, and, most of all, the fear that went with that.

On the tundra survival margins were slim. Here they were almost nothing.

Almost nothing, in front of her waited a roaring demon and she hadn’t even reached the Teeth yet. What was she going to do?

A gust of wind, and icy droplets of water stung her face. But it was not snowing or sleeting - for which she thanked the Dingir  - so where was the water coming from?

It couldn’t be… “Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu.” Five hundred paces, the roar growing louder, and… Yes. A waterfall and another gust of wind blew spray onto her face. She had reached the Teeth of the Annunaki.

Or … had she? A waterfall needed a big area of land to gather the water. The Teeth were just pinnacles of rock. Even the Finger of Iribal was just a high narrow ridge jutting out into the Agammu. Neither would have anything like enough land to gather the water. This waterfall must be coming off the Iribal plateau.

She looked up. The sun, here just a glow in the mist, had passed its zenith. Five hours since they had entered the Agammu. She shut her eyes. She had just spent five hours carefully picking her way across the Agammu on the ice to reach a point that she could have reached in one hour by staying on the shore. And the map showed that. It showed the wall of Iribal curving round to the east as it went south. She’d forgotten. How could she have been so unutterably stupid? She’d come too far west, and now they must go east.

The Agammu does not forgive mistakes, she’d told herself, and she’d made a big one, one that had cost them hours and hours of travelling, strength and time they could ill afford. Stupid, stupid girl.

But the waterfall was in a corner of the cliffs, cliffs that were ahead of them as well as to the right, to the south as well as to the west. So the waterfall must be of the point at which the Wall joined the Finger. Now she could go due east to find the Teeth.

She couldn’t. Within a thousand paces a huge rockfall lay across her path. Having no choice, she turned north, towards Umar. Fifteen hundred paces she had to go before it ended, marked by a great boulder resting in the marsh. Around it water flowed, then, rippling under the ice, off eastwards. Ninsha couldn’t follow: no, she must follow the rock line, stay close to the Finger so that she could tell when they reached the Teeth. Then she could start looking for a way through. So she started south again, the rubble and scree of the rockfall to her right rising higher and higher until the top disappeared into the mist. She reached the cliffs and again turned east. But two thousand paces later again she had to turn north to skirt a rockfall.

The third time it happened, she stopped. Everything seemed against her. Her own stupid blunders, now the land. She must stop and think, and this time think clearly.

These rock falls: each time she was going around three sides to cover the same distance she could by just going across the fourth side. And for what? To check if there was a way south, between the Teeth.

And had she even reached the Teeth? No, but when she did, there would be a way.

Would there? Of course, teeth had deep gaps between them.

Yes, teeth did, but did the Teeth? The Teeth were the eroded remains of a volcanic dike, an intrusion of very hard rock, Lea bela had said. The gaps between the pinnacles of the Teeth were due to erosion, a hard rock eroding faster than a very hard rock. At the Namgata end the dike had eroded down, so the rock there was soft, or at least softer. But here, near the Finger the pinnacles were thousands of feet high, so the rock was hard. Was it likely that they would have gaps thousands of feet deep? Was it, stupid girl, likely? Where was that brain which Lea bela had admired? Asleep?

Half asleep, yes. And no wonder, considering she had had only a few hours sleep in the last two days. But that was no excuse, for her muddle-mindedness threatened Lea bela. Think, girl. Hard rock here, soft rock at the Namgata Hills. If there was a way through, it would be near the Namgata, at the eastern end of the Teeth. And, as she had said to Amunita, there must be a way through, for the water that entered the marshes at Umar left the marshes at Adir.

So, she must go to the eastern end, or, she hoped, not quite that far, for surely the atu would have watchers there, and once spotted, she and her bela were finished.

So, how far? At this point the Agammu was about twenty-five miles wide. How long would that take her? It just taken her, creeping round the edges of the ponds like a timid mouse, five hours to do fifteen miles. At that rate it would take eight or nine hours to do twenty-five. She didn’t have that; she didn’t have half that: it would be dark in less than four hours. She must be bolder, she must trade some of the little safety for the big safety. To save her bela, she must risk her bela. The fox rather than the mouse. Across the middle of the ponds, not round the edges. But not in a foolhardy way. First she would check the ice.

And here, right in front of her, was the first lake. How wide she could not tell, she could not see fifty paces, but wide and deep enough for no reeds to grow.

She took the sounding rod and walked out, tapping the ice. The sound was dull: good. “Hai hai, Tsu-tsu,” she called over her shoulder, and walked on. Behind her walked Tsu-tsu, the thud of his feet striking ice, the rasp of the iron runners.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap, tap, tap. This was slow, so slow. Had she made the right decision? The distances would be shorter, yes, but if she had to walk the whole way, it would take longer, much longer than going around the edges.

What should she do? She couldn’t take a chance on the ice: if it broke, they were dead, all of them. She must go on, judging the ice. Perhaps if it seemed very thick she could risk riding, slowly.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap, tap, tap. No, this was too slow. This wasn’t going to work. She’d have to give it up, go back to Umar, surrender to the atu. At least then she could get a healer to look at her bela. And then? With her bela back in the hands of the atu? Hai, what a dilemma.

“Looah, looah, Tsu-tsu.” He kept coming forward, breathing over her shoulder.

He slowed, but soon he was at her shoulder again.

“Looah, looah, Tsu-tsu.” But this time Tsu-tsu nudged her with his nose, almost knocking her over.

“Hai, stay back, you silly ‘bou. I need to check the ice so you don’t fall in. Hai, what are you doing?” For the ‘bou was walking past, pulling the sled. “Wait, wait, you don’t know how thick the ice is, Tsu-tsu.” But the ‘bou kept walking.

Maybe, maybe he did know how thick the ice was. Maybe he knew much better than she ever could. Did the caribou not go on to the ice sometimes, to reach a succulent tuft of grass? Would they not know where the ice was thick enough to bear their weight and where not? Would Tsu-tsu not be able to judge the thickness each and every time his hoof hit the ice?

Maybe she wouldn’t have to surrender her bela to the atu after all.

So she swung onto the runners as the sled passed, but reining Tsu-tsu in to a slow walk. She would trust him, yes, but cautiously. Safety first.

Within a few hundred paces it was clear that Tsu-tsu’s opinion of what was safe was very different to hers. Her arms were growing tired from trying to rein him in. What she felt was being safe, he felt was being timid. In his judgement, expressed by jerking at the reins, they could travel faster and still be safe. Could she trust him to judge the ice? If she wanted to get to the eastern part in daylight, she had to. So, heart in her mouth, she let him speed up a little.

An hour later they were still alive and to her joy, six or eight miles further on. But again she was becoming annoyed with Tsu-tsu. She was trying to direct him east, but he kept on veering to the north-east. Silly ‘bou, who must know better where they were trying to go? East was the Namgata, north-east was the trail, with the atu waiting.

Then, ahead to the east, as a gust of wind cleared away some of the mist, she saw the glint of open water. Her question was answered: the ‘bou knew better.

‘When in doubt, trust the ‘bou.’ She had forgotten. Again.

Relief flooded through her. She could trust him to guide them away from dangerous ice, not just to to judge the ice beneath his feet. Ice which would carry a six hundred pound ‘bou on four hooves could carry a four hundred pound sled on runners being dragged behind it. Still, she would have to watch, for it was a thousand pounds altogether on the ice, and more when the sled thumped down off a tussock.

Still, something at last was going right. She must give him his head, and perhaps, just perhaps, they might reach the low Teeth before nightfall. She’d have to gauge their speed carefully, but perhaps after three hours she could swing south to find the Teeth, and start looking for a pass between them. She would not let herself think of the rest of the journey: it was too high a mountain, no matter what she might say to Amunita. “Hai hai, Tsu-tsu.”

 

Ninsha climbed the frozen drift and peered southwards. The crossing from the west to the east had gone well. The ice had held, her confidence in Tsu-tsu had been justified, and when the sun’s glow was two fists above the horizon, she’d steered south-east to find the Teeth. But what she had found was open water. So again she’d swung east.

Here again, open water, disappearing into white mist. The same nothingness as she had seen before. The Teeth were there, she was sure for once or twice she had glimpsed towering dark shapes, no more than a hundred paces away. But as they could not cross the open water, it might as well be a hundred miles away. And soon she wouldn’t be able to see even the water in the mist, for it was already dusk.

Fighting a rising feeling of despair, she went back to the sled. What was she to do? If they couldn’t go south, the only way to Adir was on the trail. And on the trail was the atu, waiting and watching.

“What is the matter, Ninsha?” said Amunita. “I see you climbing and looking, climbing and looking. What are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for the way to go, Amunita bela.”

“But I thought you said the compass told you the way to go?”

Was the girl stupid? “The compass tells me which way is north, which way is south. It does not say to me, “Ninsha, if you go east for half an hour, you will find a sandbar to take you past the open water.”

“Oh. But you know where we are, don’t you, Ninsha? It is just that it is getting late.”

She could do without this. Carrying her own burden of self-doubt was enough without carrying Amunita as well.

“I know very well it is getting late, Amunita bela. As to where we are, only the Dingir know that.”

“You don’t know where we are? We are lost? Lost in the mist, lost on the ice?” With each question, the pitch of Amunita’s voice had risen. Now she sounded on the edge of hysteria.

When faced with panic, Ninsha knew she must speak quietly and calmly. But … she couldn’t, she was too close to the edge herself. “What were you expecting? Paved roads like in Adir? Turn left at the tannery and go on for two blocks past Gabdal the spice merchant?” Eyes white and staring, Amunita opened her mouth, but Ninsha raised her hand and, this time, spoke calmly. “I do not know exactly where we are, but I do not need to know. I know where I’m trying to get to, and what to do to get there, and that is all I need to know. We need to go south, but there is open water to the south. So I am looking for a sandbar going south which we can take.

“I have been here before, Amunita bela, not here in the Agammu, but not knowing exactly where I am, and I found my way. If I had not I would not be here now, because I would be dead. So I will find my way again. But now I need to think, and I cannot think if people are talking to me.” It worked. Amunita took a deep breath, and, biting her lower lip, squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps she was praying. Ninsha hoped so, and that the Dingir were listening: they needed all the help they could get.

They went on, Amunita silent, but Ninsha could feel her eyes, scared eyes, on her face. And with more and more reason. The light, feeble thing that it was anyway, was failing. Tsu-tsu was going more and more slowly, whether from tiredness or caution, she could not be sure. The feelings of hopelessness and despair were rising again.

What was she going to do? She needed land to camp on, but she couldn’t find any. To spend the night on the ice was not to be thought of. The cold would rise up Tsu-tsu’s legs, his muscles and joints and bones would become so chilled that he could not walk, the sled runners would freeze to the ice. But how could she go on into the night? If it was dark, she couldn’t see the way, even Tsu-tsu would not be able to see the way. She wouldn’t even be able to read the compass. She felt the panic rising, and pushed it down. _All you can do, Ninsha, is your best._ Her best was to keep going, eastwards, trusting Tsu-tsu to stay on safe ice until she found a sandbar.

 

The dull misty twilight had given way to darkness and she was squinting down at the compass, trying to see which way the needle was pointing, when she felt Tsu-tsu pulling to the right.

“Wooah, wooah, Tsu-tsu. That’s open water, you silly boy. We can’t go there.” Tsu-tsu stopped, but then began walking again. Could he smell something, sense something she couldn’t? He knew she was trying to go to the right. Would he succeed where she had failed? Let him go on for a few minutes.

Then … the sound that she dreaded, of cracking ice. The sled lurched downwards, Amunita screamed, Ninsha sprang onto the basket, drawing a knife to cut Lea bela free. And … the sled settled level again, the runners swishing through water, bumping along the marsh bottom a hand’s length below the surface.

Hai, it was safe … but still risky. The sled basket had a forearm's length of clearance above the runners, but one hollow, one dip and her bela would get soaked with icy water. Then, already sick, her health and resistance down, she would die. Ninsha would have killed her. She should have moved Lea bela and Amunita out of the basket and up on top of the gear before they started. Should she stop and do it now? But if the sled stopped now the runners would sink into the mush below, and her bela into the water. She should have done it before.

Hai, from the moment she had stepped foot on the Agammu, she had made mistake after foolish mistake, endangering her bela more and more. She should have skirted the melt of the Umar River and fled along the Adir trail, rather than tackle the Agammu. In fact, the moment she had heard that Ashluta beltu was not in Umar, she should have fled on the trail, and not wasted time sleeping. More, she should have realised Ashluta beltu would have gone on to Adir, and not even stopped in Umar at all. Stupid, stupid, she should - the sled lurched, upwards over a tussock and onto sand. Tsu-tsu stopped, shaking the water from his legs.

Not just sand but a sandbar, a place to camp. She ran forward and threw her arms around Tsu-tsu’s neck, kissing him. “Clever boy, clever boy, Tsu-tsu. You’ve saved us, Tsu-tsu.” Tsu-tsu nickered at her.

She looked around. Should they camp here? It was off the ice, yes, but otherwise not a good place: no shelter from the wind, no wood for a fire, no fodder for Tsu-tsu. The camping would be cold and miserable, and Amunita would be forever complaining. Or probably not, she would be too terrified. Her first night ever in the open, and she was spending it on a sandbar in the middle of the Agammu surrounded by mist and ice. That would terrify the bravest man in Aria.

And … the sandbar ran north-south. Her clever boy had brought her not just off the ice, but to a way forward. The way south which she had been seeking, desperately seeking, but also dreading. South was the Teeth of the Annunaki, she hoped, but also perhaps, as she absolutely did not hope, the Assaku.

Did she want to tackle that now, in the dark? In daylight she would at least, she hoped, be able to see the demons before they saw her, but at night? Night-time was the time of demons. But if they camped here, would she be able to sleep, with that to come in the morning? And demons would surely know they were here without having to see them.

No, it would be better to try the passage through the Teeth now, get it over with.


	38. The Teeth of the Annunaki

“Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu, geeah, geeah,” and the ’bou swung to the right, pulling them along the spit. It was narrow, no more than twice the width of the sled, and less than an hand’s breadth above the water. The scraping of the runners made her stoop to look closer at the sand. It was like no sand she had ever seen: a small grey stone, sharp edged. They would not be able to travel far on that: it would wear through the steel runners, and cut Tsu-tsu’s hooves. Already he was walking delicately. But just ahead was marsh grass, and reeds. Not the usual, slightly yellowish grass and reeds of the nutrient poor marshes, but lush and green. That in itself was suspicious: why should this place have fertile soil? Tsu-tsu reached down and took a mouthful, and chewed it. It was edible, then. Was this the Assaku, enticing them on? They hadn’t even reached the Teeth, and already the land was otherworldly.

And … a thin, high sound, faint but growing with every pace they took up the sand bar. The elullilium, the wailing of the dead as the Assaku dragged them down to Hubur to judged by the Annunaki.

She reined in the ’bou to a slow walk. The mist: it had a slight glow about it, now. Was this devil mist? The wind seemed to be dropping, though the wailing was getting louder. How could that be if, as Lea bela had said, the wailing was caused by the wind through the pinnacles? And the light: how could there be light here? Just moments ago she hadn’t even been able to read the compass. Now she could see the sand, the grass, Tsu-tsu ahead. How could it be growing light again? What possible explanation could Lea bela have given for light here, at night? It could only be demon light, the light of the underworld reflected up the Passages of the Dead. A huge shape loomed up ahead. A demon of the Assaku, bearing down on them? Then a gust of wind, and with it, a stench of decay, of things dead and decaying.

Hai, no, this was too much. It was one thing to pass through the Namgata Hills with faint and distant wailing, and a slight smell, and say it was all just vents and gas and science. It was another to be here with the wails of the damned screeching in your ears, the stench of rotting bodies cloying in your nostrils, and the glow of the fires of the underworld showing through the mist. She was not Lea bela, to explain everything away neatly, to say this is science, and to put it in a compartment and close the door. She was Ninsha, who had grown up on the tundra, believing all her life that these things were true and real and there. And no longer _there_ , but _here_. And if they were real, she could not go on. “Whoa, Tsu-tsu.” The ’bou stopped abruptly.

To go on was madness: the demons were surely waiting. Every instinct was telling her to run, to run the other way, to get away from this dangerous place, to turn and go back. Back across the ice to … where? There was only one ‘where’, Umar, which meant back into the hands of the atu and the sukkal, back to Qui. Was she going to condemn her bela to a life in captivity because she was too scared to even look at what was ahead?

She must, she must at least look. To do any less would be betraying her bela. Besides, if there were demons, they would already know that they were there. Demons saw not only with their eyes.

Hai, but she was terrified. Even Tsu-tsu was frightened. Or was he? If so, he would be running, and he was not. He was uneasy, yes, as any animal might be when encountering something new. He was snorting and shaking his head because of the smell. But he was not fleeing. _Trust the ‘bou._ She walked forward, Amunita’s eyes wide, watching her but silent, and took Tsu-tsu’s halter. “Come on, boy, it’s all right. Come on, we’ll just walk on and see what is there.”

A sound, above the wail, a popping sound, like a great belly expelling air. A giant demon, belching? And a rustling sound. The souls of the damned being herded together? But she was committed now, she must go on. She slid her forearm between the halter and the ‘bou’s neck for the comfort of the contact. He nuzzled her. They would go together, her and her ‘bou.

“Hai, Tsu-tsu,” and the ‘bou stepped forward, pulling her along.

The shape solidified into a great rock lying half across the sandbar, its movement an illusion of the drifting mist. The glow grew brighter. It was not in the mist, but beyond the mist, and the mist was growing thinner and thinner. Then a gust of icy wind blew the last of the veil away, and before her stood a cavern lit by flickering fire, dark shapes waiting at the back. Ninsha’s heart shot into her mouth: the Passages of the Dead at the Teeth of the Annunaki: it was all true. Surely the demons must be waiting for them, chuckling at their foolhardiness, ready to drag them down, living, to the underworld. Were they the dancing flames there, on that boiling bed of … what was it, mud?

Mud? Mud did not seem very demonic. And the flames … they were blue. Surely the fires of the underworld would be red? Red was the colour of anger, of revenge, of retribution. And these flames would flare up, flicker, and die, then flare up somewhere else, flicker then die again. If they were demons they didn’t live very long. A line of flames were burning along one wall, blue-yellow flames, but they were low, and just seemed to burn steadily. Was that not like the eternal flame of the Temple of An at Durakin?

 And the mud: it was bubbling, yes, but was it boiling? She could feel warmth, yes, but not heat.

A big bubble, a pop and a flare which lit the whole cave, showing … walls of rock, yes but a roof of foliage, green plants hanging down from the sides of the cliffs. The tall dark shapes of the back were great fallen boulders. So not a cave at all, not a passage leading to the underworld. The stench: it came from the bubble, and was of, yes, rotting eggs, not rotting bodies. Hydrogen sulphide, Lea bela had called it, at one stroke transforming it from a keystone in a scene of diabolism to a mere piece of science. The popping sound came from the bubble too. The rustling sound came from the plants hanging from the cliffs, blowing in the wind.

No giant belching demons with huge bellies, no damned souls with rotting limbs, wailing in contrition, beseeching the demons for mercy. No living or mystical thing at all, just wind and plants and flames and bubbling mud. Just as Lea bela had said: all natural phenomena.

The ‘bou jerked his head at the smell, and she said, “Hai, Tsu-tsu, you don’t like it. Neither do I. Come on, boy, let us go on and see what we can see.” She led him up the spit, past the belching mud pond and onto a ridge of soil and broken rock that lay on the other side. The fallen boulders were not like those which lay at the base of the Umar Valley, rounded by rolling down the mountainside, but broken and jagged as if they had toppled from the towers above and just lay where they had fallen, embedded in the stones and soil, some leaning against the tower walls. The towers which rose up into the pinnacles she had seen, far to the west, rising above the mist from the Iribal plateau. She, Ninsha nomad girl, was looking at the base of the Teeth of the Annunaki, which no one had ever seen before.

She threaded her way around the boulders to the other side, where the ground sloped away, down into darkness. The wind blew into her face so that she had to shield her eyes. She took one step, then stopped. She had meant to go on, to get beyond the Teeth, but, no, going on into that darkness would be madness. Here there was light, fire and warmth. Out there was ice and freezing water which she would not even be able to see. She was not going to tackle that tonight. She looked around. There, where the great rocks leant against the cliff, surely they could camp there. The fires would provide light, and the rocks would block the wind.

 

“Camp?” Amunita’s voice was almost a scream. “Here? In the very mouth of the Passages of the Dead? What about the Assaku?”

“I don’t see them, Amunita bela. All I see is what Lea bela said would be here.” Hai, that was an exaggeration if she had ever heard one.

“What? The fires, the wailing, the smells, the mud, the dancing flames? Lea bela said all of that would be here?”

She could not handle a hysterical Amunita as well as a sick Lea bela. “Yes, Amunita bela. She told me of the singing, which is just the wind in the volcanic dyke rocks. She told me of the boiling mud, which is just volcanic effluent, and the smell of rotten eggs, which is hydrogen of volcanic sulphide. She told me of the volcanic gases coming up out of the ground, which is just methane of volcanic vents, and that the gas would burn, yes, like wood, but blue instead of yellow. And the yellow instead goes onto the volcanic reeds, as you can see. It is all just as she described.” Hai, any Assaku would be rubbing their hands with glee, listening to her wild nonsense, a mixture of mangled science and gibberish. They would drag her down to cringe before the Annunaki, and say, “We heard her, great ones, heard her garbled gabble and gobbledygook with our very own ears.” And she herself, just moments ago, had been thinking exactly what Amunita was thinking now.

“Even if Lea bela said this would be here, it might still be that at midnight, the Passages will open and the Assaku come forth.”

“Amunita bela, do you think the Assaku work shift?” Now she was mocking them, and surely any demons would come forth, insulted and furious, and strike her down.

They did not, so Ninsha took Amunita’s arm, led her through the boulders to the far slope and pointed to the blackness. “If we leave here, that is where we must go. Do you want to go out there, Amunita bela? Even Tsu-tsu can see nothing in that darkness, but we know from what we have seen on the other side, that there are big pools of icy water and cold winds. If we fall in, we are dead. Here we have light. We can make a fire and get warm, and cook food. For me and Lea bela, I would rather risk the Assaku that might come than the danger I know is out there. Tomorrow, as soon as it is light, Amunita bela, we can leave this place.”

Amunita stared out, and shook her head. “No, Ninsha, I don’t want to go there. That last bit on the ice, I was so scared I could hardly think. I was praying all the time. The darkness is more frightening than anything. I would rather stay here, where there is light, and risk the demons. But I will not sleep a wink.”

They walked back, Amunita clutching her sleeve. Not far from the sled two great slabs of rock leant against the cliff, making an alcove protected from the wind. The light from the flames shone dull on the underside. Dead wood fallen from the vines lay all around.

“We can camp here, on this side, away from the fires,” said Ninsha, pointing to the shelter. “Can you cook, Amunita bela? A hot meal would be very good.”

“Cook, me?”

Was she being a bela? They must overcome this. “Then perhaps you can take care of Tsu-tsu while I take care of the cooking, Amunita bela. Unharness him, check his hooves, rub him down, cut grass for him to eat.”

Amunita looked wide-eyed at the big caribou. “Ninsha, I can do that even less than I can cook. No, I didn’t mean I wouldn’t, Ninsha, just that I don’t know how. If you tell me what to do while you look after Tsu-tsu, I will cook.”

“That sounds a good plan, Amunita bela. We will need a fire,” and she looked across to where the devil fires were burning.

“We cannot take their flames,” said Amunita, her voice rising again. “It is bad enough that we camp on their doorstep.”

“Yes, you are right. We will make our own fire. I will do that quickly, Amunita bela, while you take care of Lea bela, in amongst the boulders. We will turn the sled on its side and sleep, all together, in the basket with the cover over us.”

 

She had barely finished arranging the bearskin in the sled when Amunita returned with Lea bela. “We did not go far, Ninsha, because we must stay together.”

And not at all because of the Assaku. “Put Lea bela in the basket, Amunita bela, and wrap her in the bearskin. I will start a fire.”

The tinder was slightly damp from the marsh air, so Amunita had Lea bela well swaddled, and was sitting in the basket next to her before the smoke started rising.

“I’ve never seen anyone make fire like that, just two sticks and a cord and wood shavings, Ninsha. It looks easy but I’m sure it is difficult. Did it take long to learn, Ninsha?”

“Long, and with many tears, Amunita bela, for I was just little when I learnt. Every nomad child must learn, for her life may depend on it. My grandmother watched over me, scolding, making me do it again and again, until I could do it well. The tinder must be the right wood, well-prepared in thin shavings and very dry. The drill stick too, must be the right wood. All must be laid out carefully together. The bow must rotate the fire stick, but not move it from side to side. The pressure must be just right, not too little and not too much.” Tears collected in her eyes at the memory and she brushed them away. She was trying to distract Amunita, not get emotional with nostalgia.

“Your grandmother taught you? Where is she now, Ninsha?”

“The next year was a bad year, Amunita bela.”

“Oh. She died?”

Ninsha swung round to glare at her, then dropped her gaze. A city girl would not know what happens on the tundra. But now she would learn and Ninsha would not soften it for her.

“When a woman becomes old, and cannot chew her own food, and her limbs become stiff, and her mind begins to wander, when she feels she is becoming a burden, she will choose to walk out onto the snow one night, and not come back.”

“What! Her family let her?”

Now she did glare, and Amunita took a step back. “I did not mean-”

“Of course not, they try to persuade her to stay, telling her how much they need her. But she knows, and they know, that a family can support only one or two that cannot work and work well.”

“And those are the old men, I suppose.”

Ninsha stood up suddenly and turned her back. It was either that or taking the stupid girl and shaking her. Hard.

“Ninsha? I did not mean anything bad …” Tentative, almost timid. Mollifying.

She turned back. “Those are the babies and little children. There are no old men. We have a saying on the tundra that Death walks five paces behind. That is for the family as a whole, with the women and children in the camp. For the men, out in the open with the caribou, Death walks at their shoulder. A wound from a caribou antler, a broken foot from a caribou hoof, a fall onto a branch or a rock hidden in the snow or through thin ice into freezing water, an unexpected snowstorm: anything and they are dead. We have no old men, Amunita bela.”

“I am sorry, Ninsha. I am so ignorant of these things. Life sounds so hard there. Your grandmother, your grandfather … it sounds terribly hard.”

“It was glorious compared to our lives in Adir, Amunita bela. But now … it is all gone.”

“I am sorry, Ninsha. For you Adir must have been a terrible place if it was worse than that. But at least you still have your sister, and she is safe with my great-aunt. Will you tell me of your nomad life, Ninsha, if it does not make you too sad?”

Was this the girl who had threatened to slap her? Amunita bela, who was so conscious of being the niece of the lugal of Adir, asking a nomad girl about her life? “I will tell you when we are settled for the night, Amunita bela. First we must cook. The lentils are in that can, soaking since the last stop.”

 

“It is nice to have a fire. It makes one feel … safer, somehow.”

“I don’t think wolves come here. I have seen no tracks or scat. So we are safe here. Once we get close to the Iribal, there will be wolves that come down from the mountain. There we really need the fire to keep them away.”

“Do you feel safe, Ninsha? I find this place, this world, terrifying, the mist, the ice, but most of all, the empty darkness. I never realized before how wonderful a fire is, with its light and its warmth. You seem to be able to cope with all this so easily, finding the way in the mist by using the compass and the map in your head, and not being scared of the Assaku and the Annunaki, and making a fire and finding a place to camp, looking after all of us. You manage it so well.”

“I too was scared back there, but because I couldn’t find a way to go south, a sandbar. But I can cope with being in the open because it is what I am used to, Amunita bela. I know what to expect, I know what to do. But what I cannot cope with is Lea bela’s illness. This is a bigger worry to me than crossing the frozen marshes. She is not getting better, and I do not know why. She drinks, yes, but she does not eat and she grows thinner day by day.”

“I have never seen anything like it, Ninsha.”

“I am worried that what the sukkal has given her has killed her consciousness, that she will never wake, that she will just ... waste away.”

“Ninsha, I am sure that is not so. I’m sure the sukkal would not give her something that would do that to her. The atu would kill him if he did that to Lea bela. I am sure that once we get to Adir, and the family physician looks at her, he will be able to rouse her. And her consciousness is not dead, only asleep, for I have watched her when you sing her that nomad lullaby about the seasons, and she always responds. She turns towards you, and her body relaxes. So her consciousness is there, it just needs to be woken up. Come now, stop worrying. Tell me about the tundra.”


	39. Pursuit

The wind south of the Teeth was icy, much colder than on the Umar side, and snow was falling, stinging their faces. Twice she had stopped and checked that Lea bela’s face was well covered.

The second time, Amunita had said, “Let me worry about Lea bela, Ninsha. You worry about where we are going. I am taking care of her. I know how important she is to you. We all trust you to drive the sled, which only you can do, so you must trust me to look after Lea bela. Maybe I am not much good for anything else, but I can do that. How are we going, Ninsha?”

“Better than I expected, Amunita bela. Because it is cold, the ice is well frozen, and we are going well.”

“Oh, that sounds good, Ninsha. I can feel we are not turning this way and that around obstacles, but just going in one direction, on and on. Might we reach Adir today?”

“Hai, no. It is still far away. If the good ice holds, and we are lucky, perhaps tomorrow night. Tonight we will camp at the Iribal wall.”

“I thought you said there were wolves there, Ninsha?”

“I did, and we will not camp on the shore, but on a sandbar away from the shore. We will camp late and leave early, and hope to escape any wolves that might be there.”

She did not want to raise Amunita’s hopes to only to dash them, but they were making steady progress in the right direction. Yesterday had taught her to trust Tsu-tsu’s judgement on the ice. Her caribou was running steadily, his breathing regular and deep. A good night’s rest and the rich green grass had strengthened him. His hooves were still in good condition. Caring for him had bought back memories of her old life. The last time she had used the reed knife had been with her sister on the day that the gallu had come and stolen their lives away along with their herd and everything they had. Hai, if she were a man, she would hunt him down and kill him for that.

She too felt rested after a good night’s sleep, the first she had had for many nights. She was feeling optimistic again, optimistic that they would get across the Agammu, and that she could get Lea bela to Amata beltu’s physician by tomorrow evening. And she hoped, oh, how she hoped, that he would know what to do.

 

It was mid-afternoon when she noticed Tsu-tsu turning his head as he trotted so that one ear, then the other would face back the way they had come.

A pursuer? How could that be? No man of Aria would venture into the Agammu. The belief in the Assaku was deep and strong, taken in with their mother’s milk. The gallu? Possible but still unlikely. He was a Findian, like her bela, but her bela was a person of intellect and knowledge, and rational thought. If she believed the ice would bear their weight, she would have not hesitated to come onto the marshes, and to set aside the danger from the Assaku and the Annunaki as superstition. The gallu was no fool, but Ninsha could not imagine him doing that. Men like him might scorn such beliefs while drinking in a tavern, but would believe them fervently when out in the wild. No, she could not believe that even the gallu would have followed them through the Teeth.

Anyway, why would he think they were on the Agammu? He must know that no-one ever ventured here. But .. perhaps he might think they were here for that very reason. He knew now she was a nomad, and had reason to respect her skills and abilities. And where else could they be? The atu and his men would have searched Umar and the trail to Adir, and not found them. Had the gallu stayed in Umar to see him? He was clever and a good liar, but the evidence against him was damning. He would have had to explain why he had been on the pass from Qui with a dogsled chasing a ‘bou sled, why there were two dead hunters on the top of the pass, what had happened later. No, he would have fled from the atu, Ninsha was sure.

Even so, even if he was fleeing from the atu and believed they were on the Agammu, he could not have followed them through the Teeth. Of that Ninsha had no doubt. She herself, and nomad born and bred, had found the way only with the help of a ‘bou who had sensed her desperate need.

But … perhaps the gallu had not. Perhaps he had followed the Adir trail, or even the Agammu shoreline, to the other side of the Namgata Hills, and then come onto the Agammu. That was possible. He would have to be determined to risk that, or feel he had little to lose and much to gain. But … all that was true. He was detemined, a risk-taker and a gambler. He had little to lose because the atu was after him and would have his head. With Lea bela in his hands, he would have everything he had been gambling for. He would have more, for Ninsha had brought his prize past Umar and halfway to Adir, leaving no trace that any Arian would see. And getting to Lusagaz from the south end of the Agammu was an easy journey.

So, the possible was now the probable, as Lea bela would say. But how could he find them in this misty vastness?

Hai, easily. He knew that if she was on the ice, she would be going south to Adir. So all he had to do was keep going west, his eyes seeking their trail in the fresh snow, the noses of his dogs seeking their scent. A child could find them.

That must be it. He would not have far to go to find it either, for their crossing place could not have been far from the Agammu east shore.

Her heart sank. Their way to Adir and the safety of House Taskarin had seemed clear, with only the emptiness of the frozen Agammu to be crossed. She had escaped the gallu four times, and thought she had lost him for good. Yet once again, he was on their trail, tracking them, closing on them. Hai, this was terrifying. They must, they must go faster, they must outrun him. But even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t. On the ice, dogs should be faster than Tsu-tsu. He would catch her, sure as nightfall was coming.

So she could not outrun him. Could she trick him? She had tricked him before, she could trick him again, surely. Yes, she had tricked him time and again, but here he was again. A trick here would only delay him again. As soon as he realised, he would be on her trail again. No, the only way - her heart quailed - was to stop him.

Stop the gallu? Dare she? And if she dared, how? Panic began to rise in her. How could she stop him, she, one small girl, and he, a big, strong, ruthless man? She had only have one chance, for once he had caught up with them, that was it. They were finished. And if she failed in that one chance, she was dead, for he would surely kill her if he laid hands on her. How could she … _You can only do your best, Ninsha._

She fought down the panic. She was a tundra girl, he was a city man. This was her world, not his world. In her world she could build a trap. A trap to catch a man, a strong, cunning man and his dogs

Broken ground was what she needed. There was little of that out here. She must go to the margins, to the cliffs and coves of the Wall of Iribal. There she would find sandbars, marshy hollows and open water.

She would also find wolves, but between the four-legged wolves on the margins and the two-legged wolf behind her, she knew which she would choose. How much time did she have? Not much, for it must be the gallu’s voice or the baying of the dogs Tsu-tsu had heard. Sled dogs were silent as they ran, so the gallu’s voice. Hai, that was ironic, that his own nature, ranting and cursing at his dogs, should betray him. But a man’s voice would carry less far than a dog’s bay. He could not be far behind. So the trap must be simple, easy and quick to set.

She swung to the west. Amunita’s eyes were on her, questioning. She knew something was wrong. Ninsha ignored her.

Tsu-tsu’s quick, nervous canter brought them to the looming dark of the Iribal Wall sooner than she had expected. She turned to run alongside the cliffs, but staying on the marsh, her eyes seeking everywhere, for anything she could turn into a trap.

She crossed a small rise and… before her lay a pond sheltered by a great boulder fallen from the cliffs, with the trunk of a shattered tree lying half across it. Immediately Tsu-tsu swerved to skirt it and follow the bank.

Thin ice? Yes! “Whooa, whooa, Tsu-tsu.” She reined the ‘bou in and looked around. The shape was right, wider than it was long. A clear line of sight lay across it too.

“What’s the matter, Ninsha?” said Amunita, “Why have we stopped, what are you doing?”

Ninsha just shook her head and raised her finger to her lips. Amunita’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything more. Ninsha could feel the girl’s eyes on her as she took the sounding rod, and walked cautiously out onto the ice, tapping it.

Thin, yes. Thin enough, that was the question. If it would take her weight, it would take the dogs. Would it take the gallu’s sled? Who could say? But if it did, it would not be for long, for six paces away at the fallen trunk, there was water. So the ice became thinner.

Sliding her feet, she moved back off the ice and led Tsu-tsu around to the reeds on the far side of the pond.

Hobbling the ‘bou, she tied one end of the ‘bouhide thong to the sled, grabbed Tsu-tsu’s blanket, and hurried back around the pond, paying out the thong as she went. At the other side, just below the rise, she tied the end of the thong to a corner of the blanket.

Would the scent of the blanket be strong enough? There, plain as anything, were their tracks following the bank. Surely the dogs and swerve to follow the ‘bou trail. How could she strengthen the scent, to make them cross the pond?

Only one sure way: blood. Her blood.

She took her skinning knife and scored the point down her arm just below the elbow. Hai, that stung, but only a speckle of red appeared. Deeper, girl. Gritting her teeth, she scored her arm again and a line of blood welled up. She rubbed her neck cloth across the wound, then tied it to the corner of the ‘bou’s blanket.

Dropping the blanket at the point where Tsu-tsu had swerved to follow the bank, she walked back around the pond, scuffing the sled trail with her feet as she went. When she reached the sled, she slowly drew in the rope, dragging the blanket and bloody kerchief across the pond, but just skirting the open water. She did not want a wet ‘bou blanket. Then she took off Tsu-tsu’s hobble and stood ready to go.

“Ninsha, Ninsha, what is this? What is happening?” Amunita was staring at her, fear in her eyes.

“Someone is coming, Amunita bela.”

“But how do you know? I can hear nothing.”

“Tsu-tsu can hear them.”

“How do you know what Tsu-tsu can hear? Anyway, it could be anything.”

“He has been turning his head and listening. So something is coming. He is nervous. So that something is dangerous, dangerous to caribou. A meat eater. So it is either wolves or dogs. Or perhaps a man he fears. When he first heard it, out on the ice, wolves do not go. So, dogs. Who uses dogs, Amunita bela? Who does he fear?”

“The gallu? But out here, in the middle of the Agammu? He would not dare. No one would dare, Ninsha, only you.”

“Maybe he is fleeing the atu also. Maybe the atu knows it was he that took us from Qui. I don’t know. All I know is that someone is coming, with dogs, and it is most likely him. So I have made a trap.”

“But if it is the gallu and you have set the trap, what are we waiting for? Let us go, let us go!”

“If the trap does not work, he will catch us. So we make it a better trap, with bait. Us.”

“But-”

Ninsha raised her finger to her lips, staring across the pond. She had been alternately watching Tsu-tsu and the rise beyond the pond. Now Tsu-tsu’s increasing agitation told her that the pursuer was close. His head was half turned, one eye looking back across the pond. She listened, but could hear nothing.

If there was a pursuer. Had she built a tower of believing on wrong guesses about why a ‘bou was nervous? There would be many strange sounds in a place like this. And if it was a real threat, it could be wolves, and if it was, the trap would be useless, and waiting was exactly the wrong thing to do. They should be running, and fast.

Then … they came, with no warning except a wolfish dog appearing, nose to the snow, over the rise. Other dogs appeared behind him, and a long low sled, racing down the slope. The dogs saw them and a frenzy of barking broke out.

“Hai, hai,” shouted Ninsha turning and grabbing the handles, and Tsu-tsu sprang forward, the sled jerking into motion with a creaking and groaning of bindings.

A yell of “Hunt, hunt. hunt,” came from behind them. The gallu’s voice.

She turned. The dogs were on the ice following the blanket and blood trail.

Then the lead dog yelped, and tried to veer to the side, but the sled was on the ice, and sliding forward under its own momentum. The ice cracked and broke up, and the nose of the sled dipped down into the water. Then, as the sled was running forward, the water welling up around it, it stopped dead, with a cracking sound. The gallu was flung forward, over the sled, hit the tree trunk and slid down into the water. One arm caught in a branch fork and held his head and one shoulder above the water. He lay there, still.

The only movement was from the dogs, frantically trying to paddle to the shore, but held in place by the traces.

“Whoaah, whoaah,” yelled Ninsha, but Tsu-tsu, terrified, did not respond. “Geeah, geeah, Tsu-tsu,” and she heaved on the right hand rein. He swerved around and she yelled, “Whoaah, whoaah, Tsu-tsu, whoaah, whoaah,” again. This time he responded, and stood trembling. She sprang off and hobbled him.

“Ninsha, what are you doing? Let’s go, let’s go!”

“The dogs, Amunita bela, we cannot leave the dogs to drown.”

“Why not? They would eat us, given the chance.”

She shook her head, took the reed knife and lashed it to the sounding rod. Then she crawled out along the fallen trunk to where the broken sled lay. Reaching out, she slid the blade underneath the leather traces, and sawed through them. She was within half an arm’s length of the gallu, but he just lay there, blood oosing from a cut on his forehead. Half a hour and he would never wake: the cold would have taken him. Come Spring, the wolves would tear his body.

The dogs swam to the shore and, quarrelling and yelping, ran off. They were still tied together, but in squabbling with each other, would soon bite through the leather thongs.

She crawled back along the trunk, freed Tsu-tsu, and swung onto the runners. “Hai, Tsu-tsu,” and the ‘bou immediately broke into a trot.

Then, hai, she reined in, and turned to look at the gallu, lying still in the water.

“What? What’s the matter now? Go, go, Ninsha!”

“Lea bela says no, we can’t.”

Amunita’s eyes widened. “Lea bela? She is asleep. How can she say anything?”

“In my head. She is speaking in my head. She is asking me if I’m going to leave a man to die.”

“Yes! No question, no doubt, no quandary at all! As he would leave us to die.”

“Lea bela says no. Lea bela says we must help him.”

“You cannot, Ninsha. It is madness even to think of it.”

“Lea bela says we must, we cannot leave a fellow human to die like that.”

“And what do you say, Ninsha?”

“I hate him. It was he who stole my father’s herd, who destroyed our lives. I would like to kill him. I would like to slit his throat.”

“This gallu? This very devil, this very man?”

“Yes. How many lives has this devil destroyed? He deserves death a hundred times over.”

“Then leave him, Ninsha, leave him to die. Lea bela will never know.”

“But I will know. I will know, and it will eat like a canker into me when I’m with Lea bela. She will be true and honest and loving to me, and I will have this black secret in my heart.”

“Ninsha, if you rescue him and he gets his strength back, he will take us again. How can we resist him, two girls against a big strong man? And then you will be putting Lea bela into his hands again. Surely Lea bela would see the sense of that, if you told her.”

“Did Lea bela show sense when she rescued me in the marketplace? Did Lea bela show sense when she followed you to Qui? She would say to me, ‘Yes, Ninsha, you were right,’ but what would she believe? Deep down?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Nor do I, Amunita bela, but I know what I must do.” She looked at the big man draped across the log and said, “Amunita bela, you will have to lead Tsu-tsu. The gallu is too heavy for me to carry, so we will have to put him out.”

“How? If you pull him off the log he will fall into the water. And drown, which will save us a lot of trouble.”

“I will hold up his head, Amunita bela.”

“What! You will go into the water and do that? Ninsha, you will freeze.”

“Not if we are quick.” She sat down and began taking off her ‘bouskin boots and leggings.

“Ninsha, has the cold turned your head? If you are going into that ice you need more clothes, not less!”

“They will get wet, and then what will I wear? No, this is the only way, to take everything off.”

“But you can’t. It is not … not decent, Ninsha!”

“Who is to see? Just you and the ‘bou.”

She waded out quickly, before she could think of what madness it was to be doing this for a man who would kill her and harm her mistress if he could. Ankles, calves, the sludge pushing up between her toes, then her thighs were pushing aside the broken ice. Hai, could the northmen’s Niflheim be any colder?

Gasping, she placed the loop of rope around his neck and took hold of his shoulders so she could slide it down. But he was too heavy: she couldn’t move him. Could she pull him out by the neck? Hai, that was tempting. The knot she’d tied was a noose, and it would slide down the rope making the loop smaller and smaller until it strangled him.

She heaved at his shoulders and this time she moved him, but now he started sliding down, into the water. Let him go, girl, he is too heavy for you. Could she? Of course she could. But could she face her bela, and say she had done her best, her absolute best to save him? Of course. Servants lied all the time. It was only the rich and powerful who had the luxury of being able to tell the truth. Not that they did.

There was only one way to get the rope around his shoulder. She reached down and took his collar in her teeth, his foul, stinking collar, tasting of sweat-salt and grease. Teeth clenched, she lifted – hai, he was heavy – just a finger’s breadth so she could slide the rope down between his body and the trunk.

But now he was sliding, down, down. Why hadn’t he done so before, when he first landed, and drowned, and saved her all this trouble. Releasing the collar, she shouted, “Go, Amunita, go, go.”

“Hai, Tsu-tsu, hai, pull, pull.”

The words, the intonation, the accent, everything was wrong as a ‘bou command, but the girl was pulling at his halter as well, so he understood and began walking forwards.

With no support from the tree trunk, the gallu began sinking. Almost instinctively she ducked down to get her shoulder under his neck. Down, right under the surface. Hai, hai. She emerged and drew in a gasping breath. But she couldn’t straighten, he was too heavy. She must walk like this, immersed in the water from the neck down. Never had she been so cold.

She’d never intended this. Wet and freezing legs, even hips, she could warm, but her upper body? Her head? Now she was threatened, and with her, Lea bela.

“Hai, hai, Tsu-tsu, faster, faster.” Amunita could see what was happening, and was hurrying the ‘bou into a trot. The water became shallow, too shallow for her to carry him, and his head slipped below the water. But just for a few moments, for they were at the edge of the pond, and he was being dragged onto the land.

“Whooaah, whooaah, Tsu-tsu,” and the ‘bou stopped. The city girl who had never driven a ‘bou said the words better than the gallu.

Ninsha knelt and grabbed the gallu’s shoulder, turning him so that the water ran out of his mouth. Then Amunita was next to her with a blanket, trying to dry her.

“Leave me.” Hai, she could hardly talk she was so cold. “Fetch Tsu-tsu, bring him back, I must go back in.”

“What! Why?” But she ran to fetch Tsu-tsu.

With freezing, fumbling fingers, Ninsha loosened the rope from around the gallu and looped it over her shoulder. Then she started to wade back into the water.

“Where are you going, have you lost your mind? Come back, Ninsha.”

“We need the sled, his sled, we have no dry clothes for him.”

“But they will be all wet.”

“Then he dies.” She would have done all she could. If he had not packed clothes in an oilskin, she had none to give him. It would be his own folly that had killed him.

By the time she reached the sled, her legs had no feeling below the knees, her thighs were screaming with agony as ice seeped into them. She tried to lift the rope off her shoulder, but her hands were two useless clumps of bone and flesh on the end of two thin, pain filled sticks. Using her upper arm, she got one fist under the rope, lifted it, leant forward and looped it loosely around a broken stanchion projecting from the water.

“Go?” called Amunita. “Shall we go, shall we go?”

Go … go? What did that mean? Her mind was numbing, she could not think. She heard Amunita shout, the rope tightened and the sled started moving. She watched it go. What was happening?

“Ninsha, Ninsha, you must come out, you must walk, you must hold on to the sled. Hold onto the sled, Ninsha.”

Hold on to the sled. Ninsha looped her arm, a dead arm with no feeling, around the handle bow as it passed her, and, feeling the tug, started walking. Then she fell to her knees, and onto all fours, and heard a scream, but her head was above the water, just, and she kept crawling as the sled pulled her.

She reached the bank, and stopped and started to fall, but someone grabbed her, and then the someone was rubbing her dry, rubbing hard, and talking hard, hard and angry, and then dressing her and talking angry, no, scolding, scolding her, and then walking with her, leading her back and forth, scolding her all the time.

And then the world began to make sense again.

“Foolish, foolish, foolish girl. To do this, to risk yourself for that devil, that animal, that wolf, that treacherous piece of ‘bou shit. It is not honour, it is insanity. And if you don’t recover, we all die, yes, Lea bela as well, because I can’t drive the ‘bou, and even if I could, I don’t know where to go. Foolish, foolish-”

“Amunita? Where … Where is … the gallu?” It was difficult to talk, her lips were so cold and stiff.

“Hai, you are waking up, Ninsha? The gallu is there on the ground, and I hope he is dead now.”

She pushed her lips into a pout, then a grimace, again and again, trying to get some life back into her face. “You must … You must look … in his sled for … dry clothes.

“I will do nothing of the sort.” She was rubbing a cloth in Ninsha’s wet hair.

“You must … dry him and … get him warm.”

“He can freeze in his own Niflheim for me. I must get you warm.”

“I will keep walking … I will get warm by myself. Hai, you have wrapped … the ‘bou blanket around me. Here … you can take it for-”

“Ninsha, if you take that blanket off, I swear I will roll the gallu into the water. Yes, and I will tell Lea bela what I did. I will tell her what you did to save him, and what I did to kill him, and I don’t care what Lea bela thinks of me. Except she will say I was right and you are wrong. No, keep walking, Ninsha, you daft, you crazy, you insane girl, keep walking.”

“I will keep walking and I will keep the blanket on, if you will look for dry clothing in the gallu’s sled. Otherwise me half freezing to death is all in vain.”

“Half! It is much more than half. But if you keep walking, I will look. If you stop, I will push the gallu into the water, I swear it.”

She walked across to the broken sled and began rummaging. “Wet, wet, everything is wet, icy wet. Furs, clothing, everything. And weapons here too, a sword, knives, a stiletto, just what I’d expect from a night alley killer. An axe, we can use that to chop wood. What is this: a lady’s scent bottle? Lea bela’s orange blossom! What a cheek! I will take that. And what is this? These knots are tight. I will unroll this and … dry clothes, worse luck. And this? A pouch of paper? Documents? Why does a killer carry documents? I will take this too, and we shall see why.”

She turned to to Ninsha and said, “The devil carries dry clothes, Ninsha, bad cess to him. And now I suppose you want me to strip him and dry him and dress him.”

“Yes, Amunita bela, we must-”

“No, no, keep that blanket on and keep walking, Ninsha. I will do it. And if one of these daggers slips and cuts his throat while I am about it, that’s too bad. I’m sure it won’t be the first time they have had men’s blood on them. And women and children’s too. This one would murder a baby. This is madness, Ninsha, to try to save this devil’s life.”

“Amunita bela-”

“Keep walking, Ninsha, keep walking. I’m not doing this for him, I’m doing it for you. And if you don’t keep walking I won’t do it,” and she began stripping his wet clothing, muttering bad words all the time.

With the return of warmth to her body, Ninsha’s mind began to work again. The gallu would be much more chilled than she was, and his body might not be able to regenerate enough warmth. They needed a fire, and quickly. They must find a place nearby to camp. Night was coming. They would need wood for a fire, and there was no wood on the marshes. The shore and cliffs were nearby, for that was where the fallen tree must have come from.

She began walking along the sandbar.

“Ninsha, stop. Where are you going? Don’t leave us here. If you get lost, then what happens?”

“We must camp, Amunita bela. I am seeing if we can camp here.”

“Then we must load up, devil and all. We must not separate.”


	40. The drug

It wasn’t a good campsite. One spindly tree and a few bushes, and those stunted. Fuel enough to cook, but not enough to keep a fire going all night, not once they had used half the wood to warm the gallu. If wolves came they would be in trouble. But the gallu’s pulse was weak, and his colour poor. He needed warmth from a fire. Why hadn’t he just sunk right away, and drowned. Damn him.

She had used his axe to chop down the tree and split the trunk into kindling, and the exercise had warmed her right through. Now the gallu lay on one side of the fire, propped against the stump of the spindly tree, while Amunita cooked, and she arranged the camp for the night. She had put Tsu-tsu behind them, nearest the cliff, It was the safest place if wolves attacked. She had driven the tethering peg into a crack on the rock with the back of the axe, for if he ran off, they were as good as dead.

When the gallu groaned and turned, Amunita said, scowling at him, “That’s right, roll into the fire. Cause more trouble. Ninsha, he’s waking up. We will have to tie him, hands and legs, so he can’t move.”

Ninsha shook her head. “What happens when he wants to pass water? No, we tie him so he can move, but not much.”

“But we can gag him, can we not? Because otherwise he will be shouting at us, threatening us, trying to frighten us.”

“Yes, we will gag him.”

 

She was feeding Lea bela when she sensed attention on her. She turned. The gallu’s eyes were open, watching her. She turned back, ignoring him, and spooned the last of the broth into Lea bela’s mouth. It was all she would eat. Anything solid just sat in her mouth, until they took it out again. She would not chew anything.

Ninsha poured a little water from Lea bela’s flask into the cooking pot, swilled it round to take the chill off then poured into Lea bela’s cup. As she lifted the cup to her mistress’s lips, she heard a grunting sound from the gallu. He was looking at her and shaking his head.

She ignored him and tilted the cup, but his grunting became louder and his head shaking more emphatic.

Something? Something to do with Lea bela. She put down the cup, laid Lea bela back against the sled, walked across to the gallu and frowned down at him. He held her eyes, shaking his head and grunting.

She took off the gag.

He spat, then said, “Don’t give her that water.”

“Why?”

“It is drugged.”

“How can it be drugged? I collected the water from a seep in the cliff here, just moments ago.”

He looked at her, then said “Look in the cap of the flask.”

What! She sprang across to the flask, lifted it, and looked into the cap. Wedged tightly into the end was a small nodule of … something, she did not know what, but surely, some drug. A drug that was poisoning her bela.

“You devil, you devil!” Using the point of a skinning knife, she levered the nodule out of the cap and flung it out into the marsh.

“Wait, wait,” shouted Amunita, “don’t, keep it, keep it.”

Too late: the nodule landed on the ice, shot along it, and disappeared into the open water.

“Oh, Ninsha, you should have kept it,” said Amunita, drawing her away from the gallu. “We could have used it, to drug him.”

“No need,” said Ninsha, “I’m going to kill him.”

Grasping the skinning knife in her fist, she began walking back to the gallu.

“I have been poisoning Lea bela day after day because of your foul trick, you devil. I should have left you to die in the ice. But now I’m going to slit your throat.”

“Hey, just a moment, girl. If I hadn’t told you, you’d still be doing it. Another day or so, and she’d never wake up. So I saved her life.”

“It wasn’t for you her life would not be threatened.”

“Not me, girl, it is the sukkal’s drug. This whole business is the sukkal’s plot, not mine. I’m just the tool.”

“I don’t believe you.” She did believe him. It was what she had believed all along, but without being able to find any reason for it. “You told me it was the first wife who wanted Lea bela gone.”

“Of course I told you that, because it was the story you would be most likely to believe. But it was the sukkal who told me to pretend to whip you, and to make the escape offer. It was the sukkal who forced that stupid girl, this one’s maid,” and he jerked his head towards Amunita, “to drug your mistress in the first place, and he told me to get to your mistress out of Qui, and to keep running with her. So he gave me the drug to keep her under. I was to take you to Umar, like I said, before you ran away.”

“You lie. You were taking us to Lusagaz, we heard the hunters talking.”

“Hah, that was just a decoy, to throw them off the track. I would have just approached the pass to Umar from another direction.”

And leave tracks for everyone to see? Lies. “Why would the sukkal do that? It was he who forced Lea bela to come to Qui in the first place. Why would he then fix her escape?”

“Seven devils, girl, do you think the sukkal of Qui discusses his plans with me? All I can tell you is that I’ve never met a more devious man.”

“You are all one, you and the sukkal, devious and devils,” and she raised the knife.

“Ninsha, no,” and Amunita grabbed her arm. “You cannot. If you could not leave him to die in the water, you cannot kill him like this.”

She was right. Ninsha thrust the life back into her belt, and turned away. She should have killed him while her anger was hot. Too late now.

And now? If what the gallu said was true, and lies would come more easily to his lips than truth, the effects of the drug would now wear off, and her bela would wake up. But to what? Captivity again? For somehow or other the gallu would get free and take control, as sure as night followed day.

“You pulled me out of the ice, girl?”

Ninsha ignored him, and walked away.

“Yes, she did,” said Amunita. “She waded into the water to save your worthless skin. She sank in right over her head to hold you up while the ‘bou pulled you out. And then she went in again, back into the icy water, to put out your sled, to look for dry clothes for you. She almost died of cold to save your life.”

“Why?”

“You may well ask. I would have left you there, and we would be halfway to Adir now.”

“Why did she do it? She made the trap, I fell into it, just like she wanted, and then she goes and pulls me out. There must be a reason.”

“She is crazy. She heard Lea bela’s spirit voice, and the spirit voice told her she must not let you die, must not let a person she could save, die.”

“Well, thank you to Lea bela’s spirit voice. I suppose the voice didn’t tell you to cut me free?”

“You scoff, Findian, but Ninsha almost died for you, going into the freezing water twice. You would not have done it, you would have left her to die.”

He stared at her. “You been lying with a man, girl? Suddenly you’ve got a lot of spirit in you. Before you wouldn’t say boo to a goose, now you are defending for your friend. Your servant friend.”

“She is not a servant now. She will never be a servant again, not after what she has done for me and Lea bela.”

“That is what you say now, girl, but once you are back home, it will be different. You will be the bela, she the servant. You rich people, you forget your debts easily and quickly.”

“What about your debts? She saved your life, at the risk of her own.”

“Yes, she did. I owe her for that.”

Ninsha glanced at him. She’d believe that when Hubur froze over.

“So, what are you going to do with me, tundra girl?”

He was bold, this one. Even at her mercy, he still called her ‘tundra girl.’ Ninsha shrugged.

“You can set me free, you know, girl. As I have said, I was taking you to Umar anyway, and now that you have saved my life, I’d be happy to help you get to Adir, then go on my way.”

Ninsha shook her head.

“You are clever, tundra girl. Clever and bold, which is why the sukkal told me to make you the offer of escape. But you were also clever enough to hide the fact that you were a real tundra girl, and so you tricked me at the lodge and at the pass. But not clever enough to see that I’m not a threat to you now.”

“So why were you chasing us then?” said Amunita.

“Seven devils, girl, you have the atu of Qui after you! You need all the help you can get.”

So he came to help them? Another thing she’d believe when Hubur froze over. And risking his life where no-one had ever travelled before to help them? It would have to freeze over twice before she believed that.

“Are you saying the atu himself is after us?” said Amunita. “The atu in person? Not just his captains and men? You saw him, spoke to him?”

“Of course I didn’t speak to him, girl. I am suspect number one. I would be stretched over a bed of coals before I could blink. But I saw him, yes, and heard him. He came in to Umar like a blazing storm, all fire and fury, seeking his beloved. Do you think he is going to let anyone else get hold of his bride?”

“But he is Gatekeeper against the Hakkan. That is treason, to abandon his post.”

The gallu looked at her. “Yes. But Lirum Gautian is not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, we all know that. He let the sukkal send Masgal away to the Umar on some pretext or other. Now he chases his lady, leaving the fox in charge of the chicken coop … But that’s not your problem.”

Ninsha stared at him. This man knew something, more than he was admitting. Yes, the sukkal might not discusses his plans with his Findian servant, but the gallu was quite clever and devious enough to put the pieces together. The gallu would know why the sukkal acted as he did.

But for now, it did not matter. “How did you know to look for us, here on the Agammu?”

“Anyone else, I would have looked in the drylands near the trail to Adir. But you, tundra girl, after you had tricked me again and again? No, I thought, what is the boldest and most desperate thing she could do? Where could she go where she knows no one would look for her? Across the Agammu, which no Arian would ever do. She’s a nomad, she will find the way.”

“You came through the Teeth of the Annunaki?”

“Of course not, girl, do you think I’m crazy? I did what you must have done, drove like seven devils along the Adir trail to this side of the Namgata, and then came onto the marshes.”

“We did not, we-” Amunita stopped when Ninsha glared at her.

“We did not follow the trail, we went along the edge of the marshes,” she said. If the priests ever knew they had come through the Teeth of the Annunaki, they would be burned for witchcraft, for consorting with demons.

“That explains why the dogs picked up no trace of you until out on the Agammu. And you found your way here. Wherever ‘here’ is. Seven devils, but this is a frightening place. I was careful not to lose your trail, girl, I can tell you, for I knew I would never find my way out again. But for you I suppose it’s like home. Time and time again, I’ve told the atu that we should use nomads for scouts. You people are clever, you know the country, you know how to survive. But the city people are prejudiced against you. Stupid. Well, not my problem any more. So, girl, have you decided what you are going to do with me?”

She sighed. What choice did she have? She could not leave him here. “Take you to the edge of the marshes near Adir, and let you go. If you try anything tonight, gallu-gar, we must kill you. We have no choice. If you get free, we are finished. So you must understand that. I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I must. I will watch first, then Amunita bela.”

 

It was what she planned, but not what she did. She could not trust Amunita to stay awake for five hours, so she let her sleep, keeping herself awake by walking, pacing back and forth, feeding the fire with sticks of wood. It meant that for the last day she would be drained and stupid, and she knew, she just knew that somehow the gallu would get free.

And the gallu, damn him, had simply turned over and gone to sleep. Why should he keep awake, knowing she was watching?


End file.
